Scream novelization
by HornRaptor
Summary: I realized there isn't a novelization of this 90's slasher flick out there, so I wanted to write one! It's complete! it's based off the movie and the screenplay (I added some stuff that was in the screenplay but not in the film) and I also added a few of my own lines and scenes. i hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1-The Game Begins

**Scream**

A novel by HornRaptor

Based on the screenplay by Kevin Williamson and the 1996 film by Wes Craven

Chapter 1

 _Ring-Ring._

 _Ring-Ring._

17-year old Casey Becker reached for the ringing telephone on the end table.

Her big, blue innocent eyes lit up as she answered the phone amiably.

"Hello?"

"Hello," a man's voice said.

Casey frowned, puzzled.

She began to think, trying to remember if she had ever heard the voice before, trying to associate the voice with a face. Was it someone from school?

No, it didn't sound like anyone she knew.

It was a very distinctive and alluring voice, one she would have remembered.

"Who is this?" Casey asked hesitantly.

"Who is this?" the man repeated.

"Who are you trying to reach?" Casey responded.

"What number is this?"

"What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know,"

"Well, I think you have the wrong number," Casey said.

"Do I?"

"It happens, take it easy," she said politely and hung up the phone.

She glanced around the spacious living room, growing nervous at the sight of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded her.

She hated this house.

She hated being home alone in this house.

Especially at night.

The windows made her feel uneasy, as if someone were constantly watching her.

The two large patio doors that were almost completely made of glass didn't help much either.

It was a nice house, modern and affluent.

But it was in the outskirts of town, way out in the country.

She always felt so isolated when her parents were out, so alone. There weren't any neighbors around for several miles. The house was surrounded by thick woods on either side.

Of course, the small town of Woodsboro, California was a relatively safe community so Casey had no reason to be afraid.

But still, something about being home alone at night spooked her.

She crossed the living room to the patio doors and looked out.

An eerie mist hovered over the surface of the Olympic-sized swimming pool in the backyard.

It was eight-thirty, pitch black outside.

Her parents were out having dinner.

She was all alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Casey shuddered, feeling a cold chill up her arm.

Don't scare yourself to death, she thought to herself.

The last few times Casey had been home alone, she was so spooked that she had to start inviting friends over every time her parents were out for the night.

Just someone to keep her company.

Steve, her boyfriend, was the perfect candidate.

Steven Orth was the star quarterback of the football team, tall, muscular and ruggedly handsome.

Casey didn't even need to ask Steve if he wanted to come over. The minute Casey had told him that her parents were going to be out, he immediately jumped at the chance to be alone with her.

They had been dating for a little over a month, and they had already almost gone all the way.

She had wanted to wait until she really had gotten to know him, but he could be so persuasive that Casey simply couldn't say "no" whenever he wanted to get it on.

He was coming over tonight, and she had a feeling that things wouldn't be any different.

Maybe she misjudged him.

Maybe he would take it easy.

Casey glanced at the television set, eyeing the videocassette boxes on top of the VCR.

She had rented a few horror movies earlier that night at the video store, and hopefully, if she could keep Steve occupied, he wouldn't be all over her like he usually was.

Besides, the only reason Casey wanted him over is so she could feel safe and have someone to calm her nerves to some extent.

As the thought of Steve flashed through her mind, Casey remembered that she had forgotten to get something for the both of them to eat.

Maybe she could whip up some popcorn.

The kitchen was at the end of a short hallway that connected the living room to the kitchen and dining room. Another hallway branched off into a foyer. A spiraling staircase led to the second floor. The hallway was lined with huge picture windows, much like the rest of the house.

She began to head for the kitchen, when the phone rang again.

Casey turned back towards the phone.

Who could it be this time?

Sighing tiredly, Casey sauntered back towards the end table and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry; I think I dialed the wrong number,"

It was the same distinctive voice from before.

"So why'd you dial it again?" Casey asked with a chuckle.

"To apologize,"

"You're forgiven, bye now," Casey said, ready to hang up

"Wait, wait, don't hang up," the voice cut her off hastily.

Casey brought the phone back up to her ear, growing impatient.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you for a minute," the man said.

Casey scoffed.

"They've got 900 other numbers for that, see ya," Casey said curtly and hung up the phone.

What a weirdo, Casey thought to herself. Who calls random numbers just to talk to strangers?

Casey walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. Passing by the window, she glanced at her reflection.

She was pretty. Her face had a bright and alive quality. Blond hair fell around her shoulders.

The kitchen was large and well-furnished, and the centerpiece was a kitchen island surrounded by a few wooden barstools. There was a section of wall blocking off a small hallway from the rest of the kitchen, which led to a side door.

Casey walked around the kitchen island towards the refrigerator, opening the freezer and taking out a pan of Jiffy Pop.

Casey tore the packaging off the popcorn and turned on the stove, watching the blue flame flicker to life.

She put the pan on the eye and shook it.

The popcorn inside rattled.

 _Ring-ring._

The phone again.

Casey sighed and grabbed the cordless phone off of the receiver on the kitchen counter.

The popcorn crackled on the stove where Casey left it.

"Hello," Casey answered the phone, trying not to sound as annoyed as she truly was.

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" said the same, mysterious voice.

"Who is this?" Casey asked firmly.

She grabbed a salt shaker and sprinkled it on the popcorn.

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine,"

Casey made a wry face.

"Uh, I don't think so," she said, preparing to hang up.

She shook the pan and the popcorn inside rattled loudly.

"What's that noise?" the man asked.

Casey smirked.

Maybe she could play along for a little while.

"Popcorn," Casey replied sweetly.

"You're making popcorn?" the man asked.

"Uh-huh,"

"I only eat popcorn at the movies,"

"Well, I'm getting ready to watch a video," Casey said matter-of-factly.

Casey turned away from the stove and sat at the kitchen island. A wooden butcher block full of knives sat in front of her.

"Oh really? What video?"

"Oh, just some scary movie," Casey said.

"Do you like scary movies?" the man asked.

"Uh-huh?"

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

What is this, twenty questions? Casey wondered scornfully. She stifled a giggle; she was enjoying this a little too much.

"Um, I don't know," Casey responded, pretending to be in deep thought.

"Come on, you have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?"

"Um…" Casey thought for a moment. Her hand reached for one of the butcher knives in the butcher block. She pulled out the knife, absent-mindedly toying with it, eyeing its razor sharp blade…

"Halloween," she answered. "You know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters,"

She slid the knife back into the block.

"Oh yeah, that's an old one,"

"The old ones are the best. So what's your favorite?"

"Guess," the man said.

Casey thought for a second. She moved away from the island and walked back into the hallway towards the living room.

"Um, Nightmare on Elm Street?" Casey guessed.

"Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?"

"Yep, Freddy Krueger,"

"Yeah…that movie was scary," the man said.

"Well, the first one was. The rest sucked," she replied.

There was a short pause, as Casey walked towards the living room.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" the man asked.

Casey stopped in her tracks.

She grinned deviously.

"No, I don't," she lied.

Steve wouldn't be here for at least the next fifteen minutes. Why couldn't she have a little fun to pass the time?

"Why, do you want to ask me out on a date?" Casey toyed with him, twirling her hair around her finger coquettishly.

"Maybe," the man said.

Casey walked into the living room, heading for the television set.

"So, you never told me your name," the man said.

"Why do you want to know my name?" Casey asked, still flirting with him.

She began to reach for the knob on the television set.

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at," the man said.

A chill ran up the length of Casey's spine.

She stood there for a moment, stunned.

"W-what did you say?" Casey stammered, pretending like she hadn't heard him correctly.

But she had heard exactly what he said. Did she? Was she imagining things? Had she heard him right?

Yes. She knew what he said. And it was scaring the hell out of her.

"I said I want to know who I'm talking to," the man said.

Casey made a beeline for the patio doors, locking them.

"That's not what you said," Casey replied. She clicked on the patio lights. A fluorescent floodlight illuminated the back yard. Casey scanned the patio and its surroundings.

There was no one outside. Just darkness.

"What do you think I said?" the man asked calmly.

"Look, I have to go," Casey said. Her voice had lost all of its playfulness.

"Wait, I thought we were going to go out sometime..." the man protested, coaxing Casey back into the conversation.

A tight knot was beginning to form in Casey's gut.

She should have known not to mess with some random stranger on the phone. She didn't care how friendly and alluring his voice sounded. This had gone too far.

"No, I don't think so," Casey said brusquely.

"Don't hang up on me," the man demanded, but his voice was cut off by Casey's finger hitting the off button on the phone.

She heard the satisfying click of the line being cut off, and she glanced towards the patio doors once more, making sure there was nobody outside.

It was just a prank caller, Casey assured herself.

That's all it was. Right?

Casey inched towards the kitchen, hardly able to take her eyes off of the patio doors. She assured herself that there was nobody out there, and turned to walk down the hallway, when the phone rang again, vibrating in her hand.

Shit, Casey thought. What if it was him? But what if it was Steve? Or her mother?

Should she risk it?

She looked straight ahead towards the kitchen.

She could hear the popcorn crackling loudly on the stove.

Casey took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear.

"Yes?"

"I told you not to hang up on me,"

It was him again, but something was different.

The tone in his voice had completely changed.

It wasn't friendly and conversational anymore. There was something threatening about it….sinister…..

"What do you want?" Casey asked, her voice cracking.

Tears began to fill her eyes.

"To talk," the man replied.

"Well, dial someone else, ok?" Casey said and hung up the phone.

Wiping away tears, Casey walked down the hallway into the kitchen, moving towards the stove.

The tin foil that kept the popcorn inside the pan had started to bulge and the popcorn was popping loudly.

As she reached for the panhandle, the phone rang again, and Casey felt her face growing hot with anger.

She had had enough.

Casey brought the phone up to her face and answered, not even giving the creep enough time to speak.

"Listen, asshole…" she yelled into the phone through clenched teeth.

Casey's face drained of color as she listened to the man's voice suddenly take on a much angrier tone.

" _No, you listen, you little bitch, you hang up on me again and I'll gut you like a fish, understand_?"

Casey felt the knot twisting tighter in her stomach as she shrunk back into the corner, trembling at the pure evil in his voice.

She heard him laugh on the other line…a sinister snickering…

"Is-is this some kind of joke?" Casey asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"It's more of a game really…can you handle that?" the man teased her. His voice had completely morphed into a horrifying persona.

There was a pause, as Casey pressed the phone to her ear, listening to what he was going to say next, her heart pounding…

He whispered something.

" _Blondie…."_

The phone fell from her hand onto the floor.

She sunk to her knees, her legs barely able to support her.

And she saw her reflection in the stove.

She saw her blond hair.

She repeated the words in her mind until it finally hit her.

 _Blondie…Blondie…_

He could see her.

This guy was outside, watching her through the windows.

Casey's jaw dropped, as she finally began to realize the horrifying truth, and she sprang to her feet.

Incited by pure adrenaline, Casey snatched up the phone, ran down the hallway into the foyer and scrambled to the front door, fastening the lock and deadbolt.

She peered through the tiny windows on either side of the door, scanning the front yard.

The yard was empty.

This wasn't happening…this couldn't be happening…

 _Casey, get a grip,_ she told herself _. Maybe if you put your foot down and stood up to this sicko, he would leave you alone. Maybe you could shake him up a bit._

She brought the phone up to her ear.

The man on the other line was laughing softly to himself…maniacal and demented laughter…

Casey clenched her teeth, growing angry.

"Listen, you sick bastard…I am two seconds away from calling the police," she threatened, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"They'd never make it in time. We're out in the middle of nowhere," the man said chillingly.

Casey began to cry, tears finding their way down her cheeks.

He was right…it would take the police at least fifteen minutes to get out here…she was alone with this psychopath…What was he planning to do to her?

"What do you want!?" Casey screamed into the phone through a torrent of tears.

There was a pause. Casey listened to the other line. The only sound was her own panicked breathing.

After a few moments, the voice on the other line spoke up.

" _To see what your insides look like..."_ The man snarled sadistically.

A wave of nausea suddenly overcame Casey, and she hung up the phone, letting it fall from her hand.

She doubled over, barely able to stand, tears streaming down her face.

As she began to regain her composure, a shrill noise made Casey scream and leap out of her skin.

It was the doorbell.

Casey whirled around to face the front door, craning her neck to see outside.

There was nobody outside.

"Who's there? Who's there?" Casey shrieked through tears.

Silence.

Fuck it; it was time for the cops.

She scrambled for the phone on the floor, but just as she picked it up, it rang again. She screamed at the top of her lungs, petrified beyond reality.

She didn't have much of a choice but to answer.

She answered the phone and put it to her ear.

The man was quick to talk.

"Don't you know never to say 'who's there?' don't you watch scary movies? It's a death wish. You might as well go investigate a strange noise," the man sneered, as Casey listened, terrified.

He was mocking her. Teasing her.

Casey began to feel relieved. If he wanted to hurt her, wouldn't he have done it already? It made sense to her at least.

He was just trying to scare her.

She had to fight back.

She clenched her teeth until her jaw was sore.

"Listen…you've had your fun. Now you'd better leave me alone, because my boyfriend will be here any second," Casey threatened, wiping away tears.

"I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend,"

"I lied. I do have a boyfriend, and he is on his way, and he's going to be pissed when he finds you here…" Casey said, hardly able to stand, maintaining her balance against the doorframe.

"I'm so scared. I'm shaking in my boots," the man sneered sardonically.

Casey mustered up all of her strength. She wasn't going to give him his pleasure.

"He's big and he plays football, and he'll kick the shit out of you!" she screamed as loud as she could, still sobbing hysterically.

No response from the other line. Just silence.

It worked, Casey thought. She scared him off.

She took a deep breath, listening to the maddening silence on the other line, waiting for him to say something…anything..

"His name wouldn't be, Steve, would it?" the voice rasped.

Casey's jaw dropped and she froze, incredulous.

"H-how do you know his name?" Casey stammered in disbelief.

"Turn on the patio lights," the man ordered.

Casey's heart skipped a beat.

Her knees buckled again, and she collapsed.

 _Why would anyone do this?_ Casey thought.

"Just do it," the man commanded sharply.

Casey snapped back to reality, and staggered to her feet.

She managed to stumble down the hallway into the living room, moving towards the patio doors.

"Now, turn on the lights,"

Casey reluctantly obeyed, reaching for the light switch, her hand quivering.

The floodlight illuminated the patio.

Casey looked through the glass, and froze at what she saw.

A scream erupted from the bottom of her soul.

Steve was tied to a lawn chair in the middle of the patio, barely alive.

Rope was tied around his hands and feet…duct tape across his mouth…he was bloodied and bruised, and his hair was disheveled and caked with blood…

Steve's eyes lit up as he saw Casey, and he began to squirm in his chair, the tape muffling his pitiful cries…

Casey screamed again, not truly believing what she was seeing.

She instinctively reached for the patio doors and flung them open.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man warned.

Casey resisted the urge to run out into the yard and save him, and she slammed the door shut, pressing herself against the glass.

She was helpless.

She sunk to her knees, now reduced to a blubbering wet mass on the floor.

"Please…please don't hurt him..." Casey pleaded.

"That depends on how well you do," the man said.

Casey sat up, listening intently, wiping tears from her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I wanna play a game," the man explained.

Casey began to cry again, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No, please just leave us alone…" she whimpered.

" _Then he dies right now!"_ The man yelled.

"No! No!" Casey shrieked, leaping to her feet and shaking her head repeatedly.

She began to bang furiously on the glass doors, watching Steve squirm helplessly.

"Just let him go! Please!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Which is it?" the man asked.

It was a terrifying decision Casey had to make.

Casey relaxed, trying to make sense of the situation, taking deep breaths.

 _Just play his stupid game. Maybe he would leave you both alone,_ Casey thought to herself. She looked out the glass doors at Steve wriggling in the chair, tugging at the ropes that were tying him down. The big jock of a guy was crying too.

 _She could run outside and save him. Just grab a baseball bat and go out there and nail this bastard. No, Casey…it was too risky. There might be more than one person out there…just do what he says…_ She deliberated the options in her mind.

Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke into the phone.

"What kind of game?" she asked.

"Turn off the patio lights. You'll see what kind of game," the man rasped.

Casey let out a heaving sob, tasting the saltiness of her tears on her lips. She shook her head in refusal.

" _Do it,"_ The man growled into Casey's ear.

She inched her way towards the light switch

Steve saw her hand reaching for the switch, and began to thrash violently in the chair, shaking his head, and screaming her name, but through the duct tape, he was barely audible.

Casey couldn't watch herself leave her boyfriend out there with that lunatic.

What was she supposed to do?

She had to do what he said, or he would kill him.

She closed her eyes tightly, and turned out the lights, bathing the patio in darkness.

She collapsed to her knees, trying to block out the sound of Steve's panicked, muffled cries.

She crawled over behind the television set, crouching down between the television and the wall. Her knee bumped the cord to the lamp on top of the end table, and the cord fell out of the socket.

The room slammed into pitch black darkness.

There was no sound but the man's voice on the other line

"Here's how we play..." he began.

Casey listened intently, trying to hear him over her own heavy breathing and the rapid pounding of her heart.

"I ask a question. If you get it right, Steve lives. Very simple…" the man explained.

Casey was still in disbelief.

"No! Please don't do this!" she screamed.

"Come on, it will be fun. It's an easy category…horror movie trivia. You said you liked horror movies, remember?" the man persuaded.

Now his voice was soothing and calming….coaxing Casey into playing his sick, twisted game…

"No, please…" Casey pleaded through tears.

The man had no remorse hearing Casey's pitiful sobs.

"I'll give you a warm-up question. Name the killer in Halloween,"

Casey could barely speak, much less think. She shook her head, whimpering softly, hoping, praying…

"Come on, it's your favorite scary movie, remember? The guy with the white mask, he stalks babysitters…" the man encouraged Casey.

She couldn't think straight. Her mind was a blur.

She hugged her knees to her chest, curling up into a fetal position, sobbing hysterically.

"No..please…I can't do this…"

"Yes you can…Steve's counting on you,"

Hearing that, Casey froze. The image of Steve's battered body flashed into her mind.

Casey sat up onto her knees, closed her eyes, blinking away tears, and almost by God, she instantly knew the answer.

"Michael…it was Michael Myers," Casey responded.

"Yes! That's correct!" the man exclaimed.

He sounded like some sort of twisted game show host.

"Now, for the real question"

" _NO!"_ Casey shrieked, tears cascading down her cheeks.

"But you're doing so well…" the man said. "Come on, just one more question and I'll leave you alone,"

Casey's eyes lit up and she sat up with determination.

"Ok, just please promise you'll leave us alone," she whimpered.

"I promise,"

Casey let out a sigh of relief, and pressed the phone tightly to her ear, listening intently.

This was her one chance.

She couldn't fuck it up.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, she finally heard the man's voice speak up.

"Name the killer in _Friday the 13_ _th_ _,"_

Casey's lips pursed into a mad smile.

She fucking knew this.

She fucking knew this one.

"Jason! Jason! It was Jason!" she shrieked madly, leaping to her feet.

"I'm sorry…that's the wrong answer,"

Casey's heart sank. It couldn't be. The killer was Jason fucking Voorhees, she knew it was.

"No it's not! No it's not, it was Jason!" Casey protested.

"I'm afraid not," the man replied.

"Listen, I saw that damn movie twenty times, it was Jason!" Casey yelled angrily, her face growing hot and her fists clenching tightly.

"Then you should know that it was Jason's mother, Mrs. Voorhees, who was the original killer! Jason didn't show up until the sequel…" the man explained, with an evil laugh.

Stupefied, Casey dropped to her knees. A pang of dread hit her in the gut. This can't be happening.

He tricked her. That bastard.

"Lucky for you, there's a bonus round. But I'm afraid poor Steve…"

 _NO,_ Casey screamed in her mind. _God No._

" _He's out,"_ The man snarled.

Casey was numb from head to toe. She couldn't move or scream.

She was dumbfounded.

All of a sudden, she heard a horrible sound.

The sound of slicing flesh, and Steve's agonizing scream…

Casey's eyes grew wide, and she leaped to her feet, scrambling towards the patio doors and flicking on the light.

She had no time to scream or react. No time to open the door and save him.

It was too late.

Steve was dead.

Slumped over in the chair…his stomach had been ripped open…a pool of blood was forming beneath him….a steaming pile of organs lay at his feet….

Casey didn't have the strength to scream. She collapsed again…utterly horrified…

She felt another overpowering wave of nausea come over her, and she doubled over, vomiting.

She let out a blood curdling scream.

" _Steve!"_ She shrieked, pounding her fists on the hardwood floor, hysterical.

She could hear the killer's evil, maniacal laughter on the phone...enjoying every minute of this…

Casey jumped to her feet, locked the patio doors, and turned off the light, immersing herself in darkness once again.

She scrambled backwards into her hiding spot, ducking down behind the television set.

"Hey…we aren't finished yet…" she heard the killer growl from the other line.

Casey reached down with a trembling hand, groping for the phone in the darkness.

She found it and put it to her ear…trembling…her voice almost gone from screaming…

"Please…please leave me alone…" she begged, praying that he would hear the absolute terror in her voice and leave…

"Answer the final question, and I will,"

Casey didn't have the strength to protest. She curled up into a fetal position, softly crying, listening to his voice…

"What door am I at?" the man asked. "There are two main doors to your house, the front door and the patio doors. Answer correctly and you live,"

Casey looked towards the front door and then towards the patio doors. She studied them both, trying to choose between the two.

Fuck this, she finally said to herself.

"I can't do this…I won't…" she said through clenched teeth, picturing Steve's mutilated body out on the patio.

"Your call," the man said, and the phone line suddenly went dead.

Everything went deathly quiet.

Casey dropped the phone and stood to her feet, looking around frantically.

She waited for something to happen…anything…

Just as things grew maddeningly silent, the patio doors imploded inwards as one of the patio chairs came flying through the glass. Bits of wood and shards of glass sprayed across the room.

Casey was incited like fire.

She snatched the cordless phone off of the floor, and ran through the darkened house, barreling down the hallway into the kitchen.

Casey was oblivious to the popcorn burning on the stove, the tin foil expanding far beyond its normal capacity; smoke was beginning to fill the room.

She ran towards the butcher block on the kitchen island and grabbed the handle of the longest, sharpest knife and pulled it out of the block.

She whirled around to face the door to the hallway, holding the knife out in front of her in a defensive pose.

She could barely see anything. Thick smoke filled the room, enveloping Casey.

Casey made her way through the kitchen, the knife in one hand and the phone in the other.

She ducked into the small hallway at the back of the kitchen, and moved towards the side door.

She could hear someone in the living room…the sound of feet crunching over broken glass…

Shit…he was in the house… _what the hell was she going to do?_

She had to get out of this house.

Casey quietly opened the side door and slipped outside, gently closing it.

She glanced around at her surroundings...all she saw in front of her were the thick woods that surrounded her house...Could she run for it?

Where would she go?

It would take miles to reach the nearest neighbor, and even farther into town.

Where the fuck were her parents?

Casey looked down at the phone in her hand.

Would it do her any good to call the police? It would take them at least fifteen minutes to drive all the way out to her house.

Could she elude this psychopath for fifteen minutes? She didn't want to find out.

What if there were more? Hiding out in the woods? Waiting for her to make a run for it?

Her car was in the driveway.

Maybe she could get inside to her keys.

Casey took a deep breath, and began inching her way down the side of the house. She clambered up onto the back porch and made her way towards the patio, ducking down to avoid being seen by the killer.

There were three curtain-less windows ahead. The lights in the house suddenly clicked on.

He was looking for her.

Casey crouched down underneath the first window, and stuck her head barely above the sill, peering into the house.

She caught a quick glance of someone in black moving through the living room, and she ducked back down.

Her heart pounding loudly, Casey crawled closer towards the patio doors, poking her head up to look through the next window.

The killer was in the hallway now, moving towards the kitchen...

She ducked back down, taking deep breaths…he was in the kitchen now…if she could run inside the living room and grab her keys…she hoped they were somewhere in the living room…if not, she would just run for it.

Casey curled her fingers tightly around the knife handle, her chest heaving…her heart racing…

Casey crawled as fast as she could on her hands and knees towards the patio doors and stopped at the third window looking into the living room…

She had to make sure he was still in the kitchen looking for her.

Casey slowly rose to her feet, looking into the window.

The window was completely blacked out.

What the hell? Casey said to herself.

She looked up and realized what the black was.

It was a cloak.

A black cloak.

The killer was staring right back at her.

Casey screamed hysterically. His face was covered by a ghostly white mask...the dark eyeholes stared into Casey's soul...

The killer suddenly sprang forward, smashing through the window, grabbing Casey by her wrist, pulling her towards him.

The knife fell from her hand, as she squirmed to free her hands from the ghost's grasp…

She screamed again, as his head smashed through the remainder of the glass in the window, and he lunged at her, grabbing her by the neck.

All Casey had was the cordless phone still clutched in her right hand.

She lashed out with her free hand, clobbering him on the side of the head with the phone.

The killer growled angrily and staggered backwards into the house.

Casey forgot all about the knife still lying on the concrete. She forgot all about her keys. There was only one thing she could think of and that was getting the fuck away from there.

She began to run.

Casey stumbled across the patio, cringing at the sight of her boyfriends corpse…still tied to the chair…

She sailed around the corner of the house, sprinting across the yard.

Her eyes lit up as she saw her parents Chevy Camaro coming down the country road.

Casey smiled, mad with relief.

Her relief didn't last long.

As Casey passed by one of the several large windows in the living room, the masked killer came smashing through from the inside, tackling her to the ground.

Casey screamed and fell onto the grass, the killer coming down on top of her.

Casey kicked, knocking the killer backwards, and she scrambled to her feet.

Casey ran towards the front of the house, watching as her parent's car pulled into the driveway.

She was so close…she had almost rounded the corner when a gloved hand clamped down over her mouth and pulled her backwards.

She had time to glance over her shoulder and see the ghostly mask staring down at her.

There was a flash of silver, and Casey didn't even feel it at first..it happened so fast.

The knife plunged into the side of her chest.

Incredulous, Casey looked down at the wound as her chest began to blossom bright red.

Casey fell onto the grass on her back, coughing on her own blood, the pain overwhelming…

She clutched her hand to the wound…feeling warm blood flowing between her fingers.

The masked figure came down on top of her, straddling her, the knife poised to stab her again...

Casey mustered up every ounce of strength she had left, and knocked the knife out of his hand, wrestling with him…she swung her fists, scratching and clawing at him, hitting at him with the phone, but he was surprisingly strong.

His hands grabbed her by the throat and squeezed tightly.

Casey gagged for air, clawing at his hands that were choking the life out of her.

Her parents climbed out of the Camaro just a few yards away, oblivious to the horror.

Just as Casey's eyes began to roll into the back of her head, she found her last little bit of strength and lifted up her knee, slamming it into her attacker's groin.

The killer let out a pained groan, and was thrown backwards off of Casey.

Casey rolled over onto her stomach, weakly crawling across the grass, blood spurting from her wound, the phone still grasped in her hand…

She watched as her parents climbed the stairs to the front porch.

She sat up on her knees, grimacing as pain ravaged her upper body…she tried to call out to her parents but all that came out was a whisper.

She couldn't speak…she put a hand up to her throat, trying to make sound come out, but she was helpless. The pain was too overpowering…

Casey watched in disbelief as her parents disappeared inside the house.

She didn't see the killer right behind her.

She was suddenly slammed to the ground by the killer's boot pressing down on her back.

The masked killer flipped Casey over on her stomach, as she looked up at him.

She couldn't move. She couldn't fight.

She had done all that she could do.

It was over.

She gazed up at him, pleading with her eyes…

"Why?" Casey managed to say, her eyes filling with tears…she could only lie there and watch.

The killer lifted the knife into the air and brought it down.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Becker stepped through the front door and froze.

"What the hell?.." Mr. Becker muttered under his breath.

Mrs. Becker's face drained of color as she saw the shattered patio doors...glass littered the floor...

"Oh God..." she exclaimed.

"Casey?!" Mr. Becker called into the smoke-filled house.

"Oh god, something's on fire," Mrs. Becker said, smelling the smoke and hearing the shrill beeping of the fire alarm.

"I'll look upstairs," Mr. Becker said and dashed up the staircase, calling his daughter's name frantically.

Mrs. Becker sprinted into the kitchen, coughing and fighting her way through the thick smoke.

The pan of Jiffy Pop was ablaze, tall orange flames licked the ceiling above the stove.

She snatched a dish towel off of the counter, threw it over the burning popcorn, and she picked up the pan by the wooden handle, and threw it into the sink.

She turned on the tap, and the flames were slowly extinguished by the running water.

"Casey?! Casey!" Mrs. Becker screamed.

She ran back down the hallway into the foyer, screaming for her daughter, colliding with her husband as he came barreling down the staircase.

"Oh god, she's not upstairs!" Mr. Becker cried.

"Where is she? Casey!" Mrs. Becker screamed hysterically, tears streaming down her face.

"Call the police," her husband told her, and they both ran for the phone on the end table by the door.

Mrs. Becker picked up the phone and began to dial 911, when she stopped short.

She heard noises.

Noises coming from the other line.

Someone was using another phone in the house.

Someone was on the line.

Mrs. Becker slowly put the phone to her ear, praying and hoping it was her daughter.

"Casey, baby?" she said into the phone.

Her husband listened over her shoulder.

Both terrified parents huddled around the phone, listening to the strange and garbled noises on the other line.

There was a dragging sound, and a horrible slicing sound, and a teenage girl's pained cries.

"Casey?! Casey, is that you? Casey?!" Mrs. Becker screamed into the phone.

Casey's whimpering came over the line, and Mrs. Becker's heart sank, instantly recognizing her daughter's voice.

Suddenly, a man's voice came over the line...it was rough and harsh.. There was a loud THUD and another slicing sound...and then _click..._ The line went dead.

Mrs. Becker let the phone fall from her trembling hand and she stared into her husband's eyes. His face was pained, but it was obvious he was trying to keep his composure for his wife.

But on the inside, he was scared shitless.

"No...No, not my daughter...not my daughter..." Mrs. Becker whimpered, shaking her head, crying..

"Listen to me...Drive down to the Mackenzie's house and call the police. Ok?" Mr. Becker said, guiding his wife towards the door. She was barely able to stand up.

Mrs. Becker opened the door and stumbled outside onto the porch with her husband, holding his hand tightly,making their way towards the car...

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks.

Their gaze was directed towards the huge oak tree in the front yard.

Something was hanging from one of the branches.

Mrs. Becker let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to her knees.

Casey was strung up like a slab of meat in a slaughterhouse, a rope tied tightly around her neck. Her face was chalky white, her eyes had sunk back into her skull, and her stomach had been ripped open, a pile of steaming organs lay underneath her.

The cordless phone was still grasped tightly in her right hand.

Mrs. Becker screamed again...and again...and again...


	2. Chapter 2-Bump in the Night

Chapter 2

17-year old Sidney Prescott looked at her reflection in her computer screen and sighed.

A year ago, if anyone told her she looked just like her mother, she would have laughed in their face.

But now, she saw it.

Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw her mother.

Everything changed when she died.

It had been one year. In fact, her mother died one year ago this Friday.

It was the anniversary.

Sidney glanced over at the framed picture of her mother sitting on the desktop and smiled.

She couldn't believe how much things had changed.

She couldn't believe all the times that she had made a face when someone said they looked just alike.

Now she could see it.

The same dark brown hair, the same smile, the same brown eyes…

She was a spitting image of her mom.

The only difference was that her mother was dead.

Sometimes Sidney wished it would have been her that died and not her mom.

"Why couldn't it have been me?" Sidney had asked her father a week after it happened.

She remembered her dad holding her in her arms all night, saying it was going to be OK, and not to think things like that.

She knew he was right, but somehow, it was impossible not to think thoughts like that.

Sidney had been difficult with her mother many times before, and now, she regretted every single time that she had snapped at her, or got into an argument with her.

Sidney snapped out of her thoughts, and glanced around her bedroom.

It was simple and plain, just a typical teenage girl's room, complete with a twin bed covered in stuffed animals, a few dressers, and a mirror.

She shivered as a breeze brushed over her bare shoulder.

Sidney looked over at the open window, white curtains fluttering in the breeze.

She sat up from her desk, moved towards the window, and closed it.

It was almost midnight, and Sidney still had a paper to finish for English.

She sighed again, sat back at her desk, and pulled up the word processing software on her computer.

She started to type, when she heard a noise.

A scraping sound…like someone was bumping against the side of the house…

Her head whipped around to face the window she had just closed and listened.

Someone was definitely outside.

It sounded like they were on the second-floor deck.

Sidney inched towards the window, listening as the scraping sound grew louder…and louder…

Her heart began to race, as she reached down slowly to open the window.

Sidney slid the window open, and stuck her head out as a figure lunged out from the shadows and grabbed her by the arm.

Sidney screamed and lurched backwards into the house.

She relaxed when she saw who it was leaning through the window, standing on the deck outside.

It was Billy Loomis.

Her boyfriend of almost two years.

"Billy, what are you doing here?" Sidney exclaimed in a hushed tone, her heartbeat returning to its normal pace.

She glanced nervously at the bedroom door. Her dad could walk in any minute.

Quickly, Sidney hurried towards the bedroom door.

The lock had broken on her door many years ago, and they never got around to fixing it. Especially since Sidney's mom died, things weren't always normal around the house.

So, that she could have a little privacy, Sidney came up with a makeshift lock.

Her closet door was positioned right across from the bedroom door in such a way that you could open it, and push it against the bedroom door so that if you opened the bedroom door from the outside, it would catch on the closet door.

Sounds confusing, but it made a nice makeshift barricade.

Sidney jammed the closet door against the bedroom door, and hurried back over towards the window, where Billy was climbing into her room.

"It just occurred to me that I'd never snuck through your bedroom window before," Billy teased.

"Great, now that it's out of your system…" Sidney started to say.

"You sleep in that?" Billy asked.

Sidney looked down at her white nightgown.

"Yes, I sleep in this," Sidney said, flustered. "Billy, you have to go, my dad's in the other room,"

Suddenly, there was a frantic knock at the door.

"Sidney?" a man's voice said.

"Shit, that's my dad! Hide!" Sidney whispered to Billy and ran for the door.

Sidney didn't have time to open it.

Mr. Prescott came barging in, but the door caught on the closet door and he was only to able to stick his head through the small crack.

Neil Prescott was in his mid-thirties, but when his wife died, he spent the next few months aging considerably. The stress was giving him wrinkles that hadn't been there before, and even graying parts of his hair.

He had always been a nervous, pre-occupied man before he even met his wife, but after she died, he progressively got worse.

He had felt so much pressure to keep Sidney safe and to raise her on his own. He couldn't bear to lose the only family he had left in his life. Both of his parents were gone and his wife was gone.

Sidney was all that he had, and she understood that.

He had never been overprotective before, but now, Sidney knew that if he found Billy climbing into her bedroom window in the middle of the night, things would not go over well at all.

"Sidney? Are you ok?" he said.

Sidney looked up at her dad's tired face as he attempted to see into the room through the small opening.

"Can you knock?"

"I heard screaming," he said.

"No you didn't," Sidney lied.

 _Please be hidden, please be hidden, Billy._ Sidney thought to herself as she swung the doors open.

Neil surveyed the room. Nobody there.

Billy was gone.

Mr. Prescott sighed.

"Oh well. I guess I'm going to hit the sack," he said. "My flight leaves first thing in the morning."

Sidney's dad was going on another business trip and so she was going to be home alone all week and Saturday and Sunday.

On the anniversary of her mother's death.

It spooked her, and her dad hated leaving her like that, but what could he do?

If he missed out on this conference, it could cost him his job. Money was already tight ever since Sidney's mother died, and he couldn't risk not having a job anymore.

"The expo runs all week so I won't be back until Sunday night. There's cash on the table and I'm staying…"

Sidney cut him off.

"At the Hilton by the airport. And call if I need anything. Got it," she said, trying to get him out of the room.

"I could have sworn I heard screaming,"

Sidney chuckled.

"Guess you're imagining things,"

"Guess so,"

Sidney leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek and hugged him.

"Have a safe trip,"

"Sleep tight, sweetie," Mr. Prescott said, and walked back down the hallway towards his room, closing the door behind him.

Sidney sighed with relief.

Billy suddenly popped out from behind the bed and flopped down on top of the huge pile of stuffed animals.

"That was close," he said.

"Billy…" Sidney said, exasperated. "What are you doing here?"

Billy climbed off of the bed and paced the room.

Oh, great, Sidney thought and sat down on the edge of the bed. Billy always tended to pace the room when he wanted to talk about something serious.

"Uh…I was watching _The Exorcist_ and it got me thinking of you," he said.

Sidney frowned, slightly bemused.

 _The Exorcist?_ Sidney thought to herself. She had to hear this.

"It did?" she asked.

"Yeah…it was edited for TV and all of the good stuff was cut out…"

He picked up a make-up kit from her dresser and toyed with it. This was tell-tale behavior whenever Billy wanted to express his feelings. Sidney would always watch to see what random object he would pick up and toy with next.

"I thought of how two years ago, we started off hot and heavy…nice, solid R-rating on our way to an NC-17…"

Sidney sighed. She knew where this was going.

"Now things have changed…and it feels like we are just sort of edited for TV…"

Sidney smiled.

"So you thought you could slip into my room in the middle of the night and we would shoot a little raw footage?" Sidney said with a laugh.

Billy smiled weakly. She could tell he was incredibly nervous about telling her this. Sweat had begun to pop out all over his forehead.

But he was right. Things had changed. Sidney didn't feel like doing those things anymore with him after her mother died.

"No, no…" Billy said. "I wouldn't dream of breaking your underwear rule. I was just thinking we could do some on-top-of-the-clothes stuff,"

Sidney looked up him and felt her face growing hot.

There was something about Billy that Sidney could never quite put her finger on. It was what made her crazy about him.

Everything about him was so mysterious…so alluring...

She couldn't get enough of it.

She felt his dark brown eyes staring into her…his wavy brown hair…his tall, muscular figure…his shoulders were bulging through the sleeves of his white T-shirt.

How could she resist?

"Ok…" Sidney said, smiling coquettishly.

Billy's eyes lit up.

He was stunned.

"Ok?"

Usually, she was never in the mood, or she was tired.

But not this time.

Billy wondered what he had done different.

But he didn't care.

He was hungry for her.

He was a good boyfriend, Sidney had thought to herself. And she was so awful to him. She was shocked he hadn't gone and banged some chick just to get his kicks off, but he was faithful to her.

She needed to appreciate him more, and Sidney had a feeling Billy was thinking the same thing.

"Yeah…why not?"

Billy grinned and climbed on top of Sidney, pinning her to the bed.

He was so gentle…so careful not to ruin this moment…

Sidney felt his hand caressing her thigh, and she kissed him with a lust that she didn't even see coming.

Billy returned the favor and his hands began to wander.

The two passionately lip locked, exploring each other…Billy's hand began to find its way up Sidney's thigh towards her underwear, and she shoved his hand away.

"Alright, that's enough, stud bucket," Sidney said, gently pushing him off and sitting upright.

God, you see what you do to me,"

Sidney laughed. He did look hot and bothered.

He was sweaty, and breathing hard, and struggling to hide the bulge in the front of his pants.

"You know what my dad will do to you?" Sidney said, her eyes warning him.

Billy's expression changed.

"Yeah, I do," he said, nodding understandingly. "Alright, I'm going."

Billy moved towards the window, rejected.

Sidney climbed off the bed and stopped him.

"Hey, I appreciate the romantic gesture..." she said, hoping to make things better.

But it sounded better in her head.

"Well, about the sex stuff, I'm only half serious. I know you're going through a hard time. I'm not trying to rush you"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Sidney said, staring into his eyes.

She kissed him again tenderly, and Billy clambered outside onto the deck.

"Hey, would you settle for a PG-13 relationship?" Sidney asked, smirking.

Billy cocked his head, puzzled as to what she meant.

Sidney reached up and pulled her nightgown down, flashing him her breast.

Billy took a peek, and turned away, laughing.

"You are such a tease," he said.

Sidney covered herself back up and laughed.

She watched Billy head for the railing, sweep his legs over, and climb down the trellis.

Sidney smiled, thinking of his warm, muscular body on top of hers, the sweet smell of his cologne…he was so attractive

Every inch of her body wanted him so badly. But she just couldn't bring herself to go any farther.

When Sidney's mom was alive, for some reason, she always just had to go against her wishes and rebel. And one thing that Sidney's mother always told her was to be pure and stay a virgin for as long as she could.

And she never listened.

She and Billy had done a lot of stuff.

A lot of stuff.

Surprisingly, they'd never gone all the way.

Sidney didn't bat a blind eye to it. She loved Billy.

She knew that her mom just didn't want her to make the same mistakes she made growing up, but Sidney didn't see the problem with doing stuff with a guy that you liked.

That is, until, her mother died.

It changed everything.

Sidney saw things so much differently now.

Every time she had started to do something with Billy, she heard her mother's voice in the back of her mind warning her about the dangers of sex.

When he was on top of her just a few moments ago, she had heard her voice. She couldn't do it.

She hated that Billy had to put up with her not being able to give herself to him.

Was he good enough of a guy to wait for her until she was ready?

He'd already waited two years.

She was so lucky to have a guy like him that would wait for her that long.

Most other guys would probably have been long gone by now.

She would just have to give it a little bit of time. And maybe her mother was right. Maybe it is better just to wait until you're married to have sex.

It's definitely safer, and you are more prepared for the consequences of sex, and there's less room for heartbreak.

But what guy nowadays would want to date a girl who wants to wait until marriage to get it on?

Ok, so maybe Sidney wouldn't wait until marriage, but she could at least wait until she got her life back on track before she tried putting herself out there again.

Sidney closed the window, locked it, and pulled the curtains shut.

She sat back down at her desk and finished the last few sentences of her paper.

She closed out of the software, and began to head for the bed, when something caught her attention.

A sound coming from outside.

Police sirens.

Flashing lights.

Sidney walked towards the window and looked out, eyeing the group of four or five police cars that sped past her house, followed by an ambulance.

My god, Sidney thought to herself.

This wasn't a usual thing in Woodsboro.

Must be just something stupid, Sidney thought to herself.

She walked towards the bed, climbed underneath the covers, turned off her bedside lamp, and fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3-Trouble in Woodsboro

Chapter 3

Sunlight filtered in through the window into the room, casting a peaceful glow on the sleeping Sidney.

The radio alarm suddenly blasted on, and the morning news came through the speaker.

"... _two teens found brutally murdered..."_ The disc jockey announced.

Sidney's eyes blinked open, and she sat upright, yawning.

She wasn't paying attention to the news broadcast. Sidney reached over and hit the button on the alarm, silencing it. She slid out of bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the icy hardwood floor.

She shuffled over to the bedroom window, attracted by the noise of a car door slamming.

Sidney looked outside into the front yard, and saw her dad lugging a huge suitcase and heaving it into the truck, slamming it closed.

She watched as her father climbed into the driver's seat of his clunky blue sedan, pulled out of the driveway, and sped off down the road, disappearing around the corner.

Sidney sighed, staring out the window at the morning sun peeking over the horizon, painting the tops of the trees.

She felt a sudden knot in her gut. Just a slight feeling of dread...loneliness...her father was leaving her alone in this huge old house for the week, and the weekend.

Surely nothing bad could happen. But Sidney had thought the same thing before her mother was killed. She had thought all along that Woodsboro was a safe, peaceful town to live in. But had she been wrong?

But then again, nowhere is truly safe.

Everywhere you have bad people, and bad things that happen to good people.

Her mind briefly flashed to her government class. Mrs. Atkinson had been discussing double jeopardy in class.

Did life have a sort of "double jeopardy" rule?

Maybe if something really awful happened to you once, nothing as severe would ever happen again.

Are you kidding? Life doesn't work like that, Sidney, she chided herself.

But who knows? Maybe fate wouldn't choose her this time around. Things could be looking up.

Sidney didn't know how wrong she was.

* * *

 _What the hell was going on?_ Sidney thought to herself as she stepped off the bright yellow school bus.

She hoisted her backpack higher onto her shoulder and scanned the campus.

Woodsboro High was a huge three-story brick building nestled in the shade of a few old elm trees. Wide marble columns rose up from the concrete out front; they supported the name of the school that was emblazoned across the front of the building. It was one of the oldest buildings in town, but it still held its charm.

This morning wasn't your average school morning on campus.

Something was terribly wrong.

The campus was abuzz with police officers and reporters. Cop cars and news vans were all parked along the street. Huge crowds of pedestrians were gathered on the outside of the school grounds, wondering the same things that Sidney was wondering.

A huge crane with a cameraman and his camera mounted on panned across the campus, filming the chaos for the local news station.

Certain sections of the campus were blocked off by yellow crime-scene tape where police officers were asking students questions and reporters were doing interviews.

Sidney could see the school principal, Mr. Himbry, standing a few feet away, talking to a redheaded reporter. She could see it on his face. Something was wrong.

Baffled, Sidney strolled across campus, straining to listen in on crowds' conversations to see what was going on.

She began to hear bits and pieces of what one reporter was saying.

"..the tragic murder of two Woodsboro High students..." Sidney thought she heard her say.

 _Murder?_ The word echoed in Sidney's mind. Oh no.

A pang of dread hit her in the gut and she had a sudden feeling of _deja vu_.

She pictured this exact scenario...Images of police cars and flashing lights and news vans all flashed into her mind, but this time, she was in her own front yard. She remembered sitting in the back of a police car, watching as police officers crawled all over her front yard, asking questions, and her mother being wheeled out of the house on a gurney.

She remembered having to be escorted into the police station, where reporters were shoving microphones in her face and asking her all kinds of uncomfortable questions.

Old feelings that Sidney had tried so hard to forget were all coming back to her.

 _Did she hear that reporter correctly? Was someone murdered?_

She hoped it wasn't someone she knew. She had already lost her mother. She couldn't bear to lose one of her friends.

As Sidney approached the front of the school, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There was a news van parked directly in front of the school.

But it wasn't the van that particularly struck one of Sidney's nerves.

She was more focused on who was standing beside the news van, holding a microphone up to her face, talking into a camera held by a burly man in a parka.

It was Gale Weathers.

The head anchorwoman of _Top Story_ , a scandalous news show that aired in a neighboring town. She was clad in a tight lime-green top and matching skirt, and bright cherry red heels. She had a smart face, one that caught your eye. Too bad it was overshadowed by a thick blanket of cosmetics and a mane of chemically enhanced hair.

 _What the hell is she doing here?_ Sidney thought coldly. Something big had to have happened for Gale to be in town.

Gale Weathers was one of the reporters who covered the story of Sidney's mother's death.

And spread a plethora of bullshit lies about her mother and herself.

Gale only wanted the fame and the glory, and she didn't care whose life she destroyed to get it.

Sidney was frozen in time, entranced with anger, staring daggers at Gale from across campus. More feelings were washing over her, old, very bad feelings that she had tried for months after her mom's death to get rid of.

They were all back.

All of a sudden, a hand rested on her shoulder and Sidney whirled around.

"Hey, do you believe this shit?" said a snarky voice.

It was Tatum Riley, Sidney's best friend since seventh grade.

Tatum wasn't the most popular girl in school, but she certainly wasn't the ugliest. Her perfect platinum blond hair fell down past her shoulders and she was showing off her figure and her ample breasts in a tight yellow top and a red plaid skirt.

"God, Tatum, what is going on?" Sidney asked.

"You don't know? It was all over the news," Tatum said.

"No, I didn't see anything. What happened?"

Tatum leaned in close, as if she was telling Sidney a secret.

"Casey Becker and Steve Orth were killed last night,"

Sidney's jaw dropped.

"What? No way!"

Tatum nodded.

"Yeah, and not just killed, Sidney. We are talking splatter movie-killed. Ripped open from end to end," she explained

Sidney grimaced.

"Oh my god..." Sidney muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. "Casey Becker? She sits next to me in English."

"Not anymore," Tatum said grimly.

They both began to walk towards the front doors of the school.

"It's so sad, her mom and dad found her hanging from a tree with her insides on the outside," Tatum said.

"Oh my God," Sidney said, still not fully understanding. "Do they know who did it?"

Tatum scoffed.

"They're fucking clueless. They're interrogating the entire school, teachers, janitors..." Tatum continued.

They began to walk past Gale and her news van. Tatum glanced over and noticed the icy stare in Sid's eyes.

"Hey, don't even pay attention to her," Tatum said and rushed Sidney up the stairs.

Tatum opened the front door of the school and they walked inside the lobby together.

"Do they think it's school related?" Sidney said.

"They have no clue. Dewey said this is the worst murder in Woodsboro since..." Tatum stopped herself.

But she didn't have to say anything.

Sidney knew exactly what Tatum was talking about.

Tatum made an apologetic face, instantly regretting bringing it up.

'Well...it's bad..." Tatum said awkwardly and walked down the hallway away from Sidney, who stood alone in the lobby.

The word echoed in her mind. _Murder...murder..._

Sidney had tried to forget. She wanted to believe that her mother had just simply died of natural causes, or died in a car accident

But her mother had been murdered.

Sidney didn't like thinking about it. She wanted so badly to believe her mother had met a better fate.

But it wasn't true.

Her mother had been brutally murdered.

Sidney didn't even like saying the word. It was too awful.

It's one thing for people to hear that your mom died, that's sad and usually when Sidney told someone that her mother had died, they say they are sorry, give her a gentle touch on the shoulder, and that's that.

But telling someone that your mother was... _murdered..._ was miles different. Whenever she said the word murder, people seemed to freeze up and not know what to say.

She hated the word. She hated hearing people say it.

Sidney took one last look at Gale, still bathing in her glory, talking into the camera wearing her usual sly and conniving expression, turned, and began walking down the hallway towards class.

* * *

At first, Sidney didn't want to believe it. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe Casey and Steve weren't dead. Maybe Tatum was just passing on a rumor. Maybe all of the commotion outside was about something else.

But she realized Tatum was right when she sat down in her 3rd period English class and saw the empty desk where Casey usually sat.

Their teacher, Mrs. Tate, a tall, frumpy woman in her late fifties, stood at the front of the room. She was typically bright and cheery, but today, she looked like a completely different person. Who could blame her? The whole school seemed to be in a somber mood. Her 3rd period English class was typically rowdy and talkative, and kids were usually throwing paper wads across the room, but not today.

Everyone just sat in their desks, still and quiet, facing the front of the room, not uttering a word.

"If anyone knew Casey and Steve well, and would like to talk, the school counselor will be allowing students to come in for grief counseling later today," Mrs. Tate said. "Throughout the morning, the police will be calling students into Mr. Himbry's office just to ask you all a few questions. It will be a tedious process, but they are just doing their job."

Fantastic, Sidney thought. She had already been questioned by the police before, and it wasn't fun or exciting like TV made it out to be.

It was terrifying and nerve-wracking.

"A terrible tragedy...an unbearable loss..." Mrs. Tate continued.

Sidney was completely tuning her out.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty desk beside her. She pictured Casey's smiling face. Always cheerful and telling Sidney 'Hi'. She had always been such a nice girl.

Who would want to do something like that? Why Casey? She was one of the nicest girls in school. Steve was an alright guy too. Sure, he was a typical high school jock, but he was a nice guy from what she could tell. Sidney never remembered him being cruel to anyone. Who would want to kill them?

Sidney still couldn't believe she was dead. Killed in such an awful way.

What did Tatum say? They were hanging from a tree.. Ripped open... Their insides on the outside...Tatum's words echoed in her mind.

Sidney shuddered. She couldn't imagine what they both had gone through. The pain... Sidney imagined the cold steel blade of a knife piercing her flesh... Why would anyone want to cause someone that much pain?

A sick person, that's who.

Did the police really think that someone who went to school here did something like that? Sidney glanced around the room.

Could one of these people be a cold blooded murderer capable of committing such an awful crime?

She sure hoped not.

A sudden flashback went through her mind. She was at the movies about two years ago... With Billy... And Tatum... And bunch of other kids from school... Casey was there too.

But she was with someone else. It wasn't Steve. It was someone else. A guy that she dated before Steve.

Who was it?

Oh, what does it matter. She was dead. She wasn't coming back.

Sidney remembered that night so well. They had all gone out to eat, and Casey paid for her meal because Sidney had forgotten her purse in the car.

It was all coming back to her now.

They were all at Lefty's, a small, inexpensive pizza parlor on Main Avenue.

They were crammed into two booths against the back wall. Some of the guys were extra rowdy that night, and a few of the customers had given the group dirty looks.

Sidney and Billy were sitting on one side of the booth, and Tatum and some guy from school were across from them.

In the booth behind them, sat Casey, and her boyfriend, and a few other kids from school, but Sidney didn't really know them all that well.

Who was Casey sitting beside? It wasn't Steve. Sidney knew that for sure. It was another guy, before Steve. She couldn't remember.

The waiter had just brought two large pepperoni pizzas to the tables and they all chowed down, laughed, talked, made dirty jokes, and made fun of their teachers for about an hour.

When the bill came, they all pitched in a few bucks to pay for the two pizzas, and Sidney felt inside of her purse.

"Oh, shit, I think I left my wallet in the car," Sidney said, standing up from the table.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll pay for you so you wont have to walk in that creepy parking lot by yourself," Casey said, turning around in the booth beside of them.

"No, you don't have to do that, I can go get it," Sidney protested.

"It's cool, no worries. You don't have to pay me back or anything," Casey said.

The group all went to see some cheesy horror flick at the local theater after they ate and Sidney remembered them almost getting kicked out for being too boisterous.

Sidney smiled at the fond memory. How could anyone do something that horrible to such a nice girl?

She even remembered Casey coming up to Sidney and telling her how sorry she was about Sidney's mom dying.

After the hell Sidney had been through, she really needed to hear things like that, and sure, some people say that others cheery personalities can be irritating, but Casey's wasn't the fake kind of cheeriness..the sickeningly sweet gooey exterior that some girls paint on themselves...Casey's was genuine.

Sure, they weren't the best of friends, not like her and Tatum, but still...Sidney knew who Casey was. And anytime someone you know, someone you see every day in the hallway, someone you have asked to borrow a pencil in class suddenly dies in such an awful way...it's hard for it not to affect you.

This was a girl Sidney knew. A girl she saw everyday.

And she was dead. Murdered.

A thought kept eating away in the back of Sidney's mind.

She didn't want to think it.

she wished the thought would go away.

Casey and Sidney's mom were both murdered in the same town, both brutally and savagely, and were killed almost exactly a year apart.

Were they connected?

No, Sidney. Stop thinking about things like that.

Surely, it was just a tragic coincidence.

Right?

Sidney broke away from her thoughts and turned just in time to see a young, blond police officer step into the room and hand a sheet of paper to Mrs. Tate.

Mrs. Tate unfolded the note, read it, and looked dead at Sidney.

"Um, Mrs. Prescott, it would appear to be your turn," Mrs. Tate said.

Great, Sidney thought silently. She sighed and rose to her feet.

The whole classroom watched her walk towards the police officer standing at the door and out into the hallway.

* * *

"Next up, we have Sidney Prescott," said Principal Himbry, standing up behind his desk.

Arthur Himbry was an old codger of a man, clad in his usual grey pinstriped suit. His graying hair was neatly coiffed, and he wore a sour expression.

His office was a large, spacious room with a mahogany desk against the far wall, a trophy case filled with knick-knacks stretching across one wall, and a sofa and a bookshelf.

The office was at capacity, police officers were standing wall to wall...sitting...standing...leaning...

Sheriff Burke, a plump, balding man in his late fifties sat in a chair at the edge of the desk, wiping the stress off of his face.

"That's the daughter of...uh..." Mr. Himbry started to say.

"Maureen Prescott," Sheriff Burke said solemnly, his eyes staring off into the distance, reminiscing...

He had been through hell with the rape and murder of Maureen only one year ago, and now he was reliving it.

He remembered the few months after the murder like they were yesterday.

The mayor of Woodsboro had barged into his office at the station, his round face red with anger.

He had shaken his finger in Burke's face, warning him that if "Woodsboro's finest didn't catch this son-of-a-bitch, he would have him on the next bus to some shopping mall in Orlando."

It was the worst three months of his life.

Phones constantly ringing off the hook...the residents of Woodsboro calling him day in and day out asking him if they have caught the bastard who did it.

Maureen's murder rocked this town.

All of Woodsboro, and the entire county, was scared to death.

Who could blame them?

Maureen's murder was the worst crime he had ever seen, and Burke had spent some time as a deputy in Las Vegas, busting crack dealers and prostitutes day in and day out. He had seen a entire drug cartel wiped out by a firing squad, but he had never seen anything as brutal as the slaying of Maureen Prescott.

She wasn't just murdered. She had been slaughtered.

She was barely recognizable.

He had officers throwing up in the backyard, unable to handle all of the blood.

Poor Sidney. She found her poor mother lying there on the bedroom floor, drenched in blood. The poor girl was probably traumatized for life.

Then, if finding her mother's mutilated corpse wasn't enough, she had to testify against the bastard who did it. Who was it again?

Cotton Weary.

He was on death row for the murder,and understandably so.

Sidney swore on her deathbed that Cotton was the guy who butchered her mother, but other than Sidney's testimony, the police had nothing else to go on. Sidney was the only piece of evidence that they had, other than a few ill-conceived rumors that Cotton had been having an affair with Sidney's mother.

And to this day, Burke had questioned whether or not Cotton was the killer. He never was sure about him.

He was a charming son-of-a-bitch, an aspiring actor. Good-looking, clean-cut kinda guy. Burke never got a cold blooded killer vibe from him.

But Sidney was adamant that she had seen Cotton leave the house the night of the murder.

Burke just wanted to solve the case, and so he jumped at the chance. The chilling testimony of Maureen's daughter pointing the killer out in the courtroom swayed the jury, and before they knew it, they had caught themselves a killer.

And now, that two more murders had shaken the small town of Woodsboro, Burke was afraid that his suspicions about Cotton were right all along.

Cotton was in jail, and the killer had struck again.

Rumors were flying all around town about a serial killer...about how Maureen's killer had returned to finish what he had started.

Burke prayed to God that they were just rumors. A serial killer was a small town sheriff's worst nightmare.

"This Friday is the anniversary," said Deputy Dewey Riley solemnly.

Dewey Riley was boyishly handsome, in a scrubbed clean kind of way, and he filled the room with his Barney Fife-ish presence and his inexperience.

He was still a good and loyal cop, and had known Sidney for many years, probably due to the fact that he was Tatum's older brother.

But Dewey was more of an older brother towards Sidney, considering Tatum could have a harsh disposition, and the closer Sidney and Tatum became, Sidney and Dewey grew closer as well.

He was also on the squad when Sidney's mother was murdered.

Sidney couldn't bear to be in that house after her mother was killed, so she stayed with Tatum for a few months following the murder, and Sidney and Dewey formed an even stronger bond.

Dewey loved her like a little sister, and considering all she had left was her father, who was always away on business trips, he planned on staying in Woodsboro for as long as he could to be there for her.

"How is she, Dewey?" Sheriff Burke asked.

"She's adjusted well. She's got a good group of friends supporting her and she's keeping up her grades. You wouldn't even know..." Dewey's voice trailed off as Sidney walked into the room.

Sidney glanced around the room and could immediately tell they had been talking about her.

"Hi, Sidney," Principal Himbry said, smiling, trying to comfort her.

's comforting smile wasn't enough to make Sidney feel better about of all of the eyes in the room staring at her.

"Hi, Principal Himbry. Hi, Dewey..." Sidney said, giving him a discomforting look.

Dewey shook his head seriously.

"It's Deputy Riley today, Sid," he said.

"Sorry.. Deputy," Sidney said, sitting down in the chair beside Sheriff Burke.

Sheriff Burke sat upright in his chair, and attempted to put on a kind face.

It still didn't make Sidney feel better.

"Hi, Sidney. We're just going to ask you a few questions. It shouldn't take long," Burke said.

Sidney nodded understandingly. She had heard all of it before.

"Did you know Casey Becker well?"

Sidney shook her head.

"No. I mean, I knew her, but we weren't close," Sidney said.

Sheriff Burke nodded in response.

"What about Steven Orth?"

Sidney shook her head again.

"Do you know anybody that would want to hurt either of them? Did you ever see them in any arguments?"

Sidney shook her head.

"No, they were both two of the nicest people in school. Especially Casey... I don't know who would want to hurt her," Sidney replied.

"Do you remember anything unusual from last night around midnight?" Burke asked.

Sidney began to shake her head 'no', when she remembered Billy climbing into her window.

That was a little after midnight.

Should she say anything?

No... Billy? Could.. Could Billy be involved? Sidney didn't live too far away from Casey.

Sidney, are you insane? She thought to herself. Was she really suspecting Billy as having something to do with Casey and Steve's murder? She had never seen Billy talk to either one of them. Why would he want to hurt them?

But Billy was out near Casey's house around midnight.

And that's just it.

Billy was with Sidney at midnight, climbing into her window. There's no way he would have had anything to do with it.

"No," Sidney said.

There's no way Billy could be involved.

Right?


	4. Chapter 4-How to Gut Someone

Chapter 4

The lunch bell rang.

The police were halfway finished with their interrogating, and they all got their own table in the cafeteria. Most of the students didn't eat in the cafeteria anyway.

The majority of the kids at Woodsboro High ate their lunch outside in the huge courtyard.

It was a nice day, not a cloud in the sky, and the courtyard was full of high school students, some sitting in the grass, some at tables, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what everyone was excitedly talking about.

Casey and Steve's brutal demise was all there was to talk about, especially in a small, quiet town like Woodsboro.

Sidney walked out into the courtyard from inside the school, carrying her sack lunch that she had packed that morning.

She didn't have that much of an appetite, but maybe she could just sit outside and enjoy the sunshine.

Sidney glanced around at her surroundings. The courtyard was a big arena for kids to just come and talk, eat, or just throw a football back and forth in between classes.

There were a few picnic tables under the shade of trees, a gazebo, and all of the paths came together to a large fountain that served as the centerpiece.

Sidney sat down at the edge of the fountain, and ran her hand through the water, feeling the light mist on her face from the jets of water shooting up into the air.

Just then, Principal Himbry came over the intercom after a shrill beep and static.

"Attention students, after lunch, interrogations will continue. The police are issuing a curfew tonight at 9 PM, and students are encouraged to return home promptly from school grounds. Avoid strangers, and walk in large groups. Your principal loves you, and I, and the rest of the faculty, want you to be safe,"

"There's creepy Mr. Himbry, being the father that I never wanted," said a familiar voice.

Sidney looked up to see Billy sitting down beside of her on the edge of the fountain.

He was wearing a grey sweater and jeans, and his dark hair was neatly slicked back.

"Hey," Sidney said softly, turning to face him.

"You alright?" Billy asked, his eyes growing wide with concern.

"Yeah… just a little shaken up," she said.

"I don't blame you. Do you want to talk?" Billy asked.

Just as Sidney opened her mouth to speak, Billy glanced over and saw Tatum and two other friends of theirs coming towards them from across the courtyard.

"Well, so much for alone time," Billy sighed.

"Hey, kiddo," Tatum said, perching on the side of the fountain beside Sidney.

Tatum's boyfriend, Stu Macher, sat down beside Tatum and draped his arm around her shoulder.

Stu's real name was Stuart, but Tatum had just recently started affectionately calling him "Stu" and the rest of the gang followed suit.

It took Sid by surprise a few months earlier when Tatum started dating Stu.

Both had similar personalities, feisty and carefree, but Stu was more of a goofball.

Stu and Billy had been buddies for a long time, so Sidney had already known Stu from several parties at Billy's house and other social events.

Sidney always thought that Stu sort of followed Billy around like a lost puppy, almost like Stu admired him in a way.

Nothing weird, but Billy always knew how to win over a girl, and Stu had always been the awkward one.

So for a bombshell like Tatum to date a goof like Stu, it was odd.

But they had fun together, and Sidney thought they were a good couple.

Stu was an alright-looking guy, kind of wiry, with a head of messy brown hair, and a dumb grin always plastered on his face.

Another one of the group was Randy Meeks, who sat down on the fountain opposite of Stu, engrossed in some kind of handheld video game.

Randy was tall and gangly, like Stu, but Randy was more of a geek. Randy always preferred the term "film buff", and he was always spitting out some random tidbit about a movie he had seen, especially the horror genre. Randy had boasted before that he had seen every horror movie worth seeing; most of them were movies that the rest of them had never seen or heard of before.

Sure, he was kind of a dork, but he made it cool. He was a decent-looking guy-tall, kind of scrawny, dark hair that he kept spiked up, and he had a witty sense of humor.

And it was no secret that Randy had had a major crush on Sidney since middle school.

It wasn't anything serious, and Sidney didn't mind all that much and neither did Billy. Sidney had even briefly considered dating Randy. She had known him longer than Billy, but she didn't know if she could put up with all of his horror movie business. She hated horror movies. How could you sit there and watch innocent people being slaughtered?

She never understood Randy's avid love for horror flicks. She didn't know how anyone could watch them.

Sidney's life was enough like a horror movie with her mom's murder.

She didn't need any other scary things in her life.

She had even politely turned him down when he asked her out three or four years ago. And yes, Randy would playfully flirt with her at times.

But he was harmless.

He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"How did your interrogation go?" Tatum asked Sidney, tossing her blond hair behind her shoulders and unzipping her lunch bag.

"I guess it went as well as a police interrogation can go," Sidney said.

"What kind of questions did they ask you?"

"Oh, the usual. They asked me if I knew Casey," Sidney replied, leaning back on Billy's shoulder.

"They asked me that too," Tatum said, opening a bag of chips.

She offered Sidney a potato chip, and she shook her head.

"Hey, Billy, did they ask you if you liked to hunt?" Stu spoke up.

"Yeah, they did,"

"Why would they ask if you liked to hunt?" Tatum inquired.

"Because their bodies were gutted," Randy said out of nowhere, not even looking up from his handheld game.

"Thanks, Randy," Tatum said sarcastically, and scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Wait, they didn't ask me if I liked to hunt,"

"Because there's no way a girl could have killed them," Stu said matter-of-factly.

Tatum spun around to face Stu.

"That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female. Hello? Basic Instinct," Tatum said indignantly.

"That was an icepick. Not the same thing," Randy said, putting aside his game.

"Yeah," Stu agreed. "Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. It takes a man to do something like that."

Tatum rolled her eyes, offended.

"Or a man's mentality," she quipped.

"How do you…gut someone?" Sidney said, out of nowhere.

The whole group turned to look at her.

There was an awkward silence that was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"You take a knife…and you slit them from groin to sternum," Stu said, gesturing with a quick upward motion.

Sidney shivered down to her soul, feeling a chill run up the length of her spine.

She wished she hadn't said anything. She didn't even mean to say it out loud. It came out totally wrong.

She knew how to gut someone; she was asking "How do you gut someone?" as in "How can anyone do something so awful to a human being?" Now she had the mental image of a knife slicing someone open..warm, red blood flowing out… She shuddered again.

Billy swatted Stu on the shoulder, giving him a look.

"It's called tact, fuckrag," he said, annoyed.

"What? She asked," Stu said.

Tatum rolled her eyes, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow, sorry, sheesh," Stu said, rubbing his side.

"So, Stu, do the police know that you are familiar with the art of gutting someone?" Randy asked, half-serious.

"What? Are you saying that I killed Casey and Steve?" Stu asked, slightly offended.

"It would certainly improve your high school Q," Randy said.

"Hey, Stu was with me last night, okay?" Tatum said, kissing Stu on the neck.

"Yeah I was," Stu said, grinning mischievously.

"Oh really? Was that before or after he sliced and diced?" Randy teased.

Stu laughed and hit him playfully on the arm.

Now he was just being his usual jokester self.

Sidney thought about bringing up a random topic, just to change the subject. She had already been interrogated by the cops for the second time in her life about the murders, and she didn't want to talk about it any more. She wanted to say something, but she just decided to keep it to herself. They were just messing around. They didn't mean any harm.

But with Casey and Steve's murder bringing back old feelings about her mom's murder, Sidney didn't feel like joking about such an awful situation.

"Oh, fuck you, you nutcase, where were you last night?" Tatum questioned Randy, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Working, thank you," Randy said defensively.

"Oh, at Blockbuster? I thought they fired your sorry ass," Tatum said, grinning.

"Twice," Randy said, popping a stick of gum into his mouth.

Tatum laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I didn't kill anybody," Stu said.

"Nobody said you did," Billy added.

"Well, I mean, after all, _it takes a man to do something like that,"_ Randy said, mocking Stu.

Stu hit him again with a laugh.

"I'm going to gut your ass in a second, kid,"

"Hey, Stu, tell me something, did the killer really put Casey's liver in the mailbox, because I heard that they found her liver in the mailbox, next to her spleen and her pancreas," Randy joked.

Alright, that was too far, Sidney thought to herself. Casey and Steve both had family that loved them, and they were sitting here, laughing and joking about her murder.

Sidney shook her head, grabbed her backpack and rose to her feet. She had tried to ignore them, but she was about to crawl out of her skin.

How can you just joke about a thing like that? She loved her friends, but Stu and Randy could really take things too far.

"Randy, you goon fuck, I'm trying to eat here," Tatum said, throwing one of her chips at him.

Sidney kissed Billy softly, and headed off towards the far end of the courtyard towards the doors leading inside.

"Great. Look what the both of you did to Sidney. You know what she has been through," Tatum scolded them.

"Hey, Randy, Tatum's getting mad. We'd better liver alone…" Stu guffawed at his own joke.

Now, even Randy was getting annoyed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Tatum made a face, shaking her head.

Billy leaned over and smacked Stu as hard as he could on the back of the head with a loud _THWAP._

"Ow!" Stu cried, rubbing the back of his head. "Liver alone…Get it? Gah, it was just a joke!"

* * *

 _How could they be so insensitive?_ Sidney thought to herself as she walked down the empty hallway.

Casey was probably at the county morgue, lying on a cold metal slab, being cut open by coroners...her parents were probably trying to plan for their daughter's funeral...and all Randy and Stu could do was be their usual self and try to come up with the crudest joke.

She couldn't understand how anyone could joke about murder. Maybe it was just because since her mother had been murdered, she knew first hand what it felt like to have someone so close to you die in such a ghastly way.

Still, she didn't think she would appreciate their sense of humor even if her mother hadn't been murdered.

Sidney stopped at the water fountain, and took a sip of water, leaning against the row of lockers.

She sighed and massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers.

 _Just calm down, Sidney,_ she told herself. _Just calm down._

Randy and Stu didn't mean anything by it. Maybe she was just being oversensitive.

It had just been a stressful day, and she couldn't handle their usual hijinks.

Just then, the door to the bathroom beside her swung open, and Dewey stepped out, looking official in his sandy colored deputy uniform.

Sidney forced a smile, but it was obvious that she was a wreck.

"Hey, how you doing?" he asked. "I'm technically not supposed to be fraternizing with the suspects, but I think I'll make an exception,"

"Oh, so now I'm a suspect?" Sidney said with a weak chuckle.

"No, no...well...yes.." Dewey said hesitantly. He laughed nervously. "We aren't ruling anyone out,"

Sidney let out a deep sigh.

"I'm probably not supposed to ask you, but...do you really think that it could be someone who goes to school here?" she asked.

Dewey shook his head.

"Can't talk about it," he said. "Sorry, Sid,"

Sidney shrugged.

"It's fine, I kind of expected that,"

She bit her lip to prevent herself from asking him if he thought that Casey and Steve's murders could have something to do with her mother's murder. Her mind was screaming at her to ask him.

"Well...um...I'll see you later, Sid," Dewey said. "Remember the curfew tonight and be safe,"

Sidney nodded in response and watched Dewey head towards the cafeteria, when he stopped and turned around.

His expression turned dead serious.

"Be safe, Sidney," he said, his eyes boring into hers.

"I'll do my best," Sidney said, her face weakening.

She watched as he disappeared around the corner.

There was a long lull of silence. The hallway was completely empty and quiet. A chill ran up Sidney's arm.

She looked both ways down the hallway, feeling a pang of dread in her gut.

She heard footsteps coming one way and she froze.

Her heartbeat began to quicken, and her hand reached into her bag for a weapon.

A figure came jogging around the corner where Dewey disappeared. It was Tatum, her blond hair bobbing on her shoulders, her bright red handbag swinging from her left arm.

God, Sidney thought to herself. She almost stabbed her best friend to death, she realized, as she looked down at the number 2 pencil grasped in her right hand.

 _Just calm down,_ she chided herself.

"Hey, Sid, are you ok?" Tatum asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm just spooked about all of this,"

"I can tell," Tatum said. "Look, just ignore Randy and Stu, they're morons,"

Sidney forced a smile.

"It's not really them. I'm just scared, Tatum...that it's happening all over again,"

"Hey, hey, hey, Casey and Steve's murder doesn't have anything to do with your mom, okay? Just stop thinking things like that," Tatum said.

Tatum had always seemed to know what Sidney was thinking, ever since ninth grade. It was like she possessed some kind of weird sense, and she could always tell when something was bothering Sidney.

"I know, I know..." Sidney said, leaning back against the lockers.

"Look, I know your dad's out of town, but you are a mess right now, and I'm not letting you stay home alone tonight. You are staying at my place until your dad gets back," Tatum said.

"No, no, Tatum, you don't have to do that," Sidney said.

But it was no use. Tatum was stubborn as a mule. It offered Sidney some benefits in some situations, but other times, it was kind of annoying how headstrong and pushy Tatum could be.

"Yes I do. It will just be you and I and Dewey and my mom, it will be totally cool with them,"

Sidney smiled.

"Alright. I guess with Dewey and his gun around, I'd be more safe,"

Tatum scoffed.

"Please, I'd feel more safe with my mom around," she joked.

Tatum always prodded and teased Dewey for as long as Sidney could remember. They had always had a strange relationship. Sometimes Tatum and Dewey got along perfectly well, and some days they hated each others guts.

"Cool. I have practice until six thirty so I'll pick you up at seven, okay?"

"Ok, thanks," Sidney replied.

Just as they began to head off down the hallway together, the bell rang shrilly and the cafeteria doors exploded open, students pouring out into the hallway. Sidney couldn't help but peek into the open doorway, eyeing Gale and her cameraman sitting at one of the tables.

She watched her intently...Gale was leaning in close with her cameraman, whispering something excitedly.

More than likely, she was spreading some awful rumors about the murders, just like she did with her mother.

 _The bitch..._ Sidney thought nastily as bad memories flashed into her mind, and she shuddered.

 _Why the hell was she whispering?_

 _What the hell was she up to now?_

* * *

The bright yellow school bus rumbled down the narrow road, coming to a stop at a large, two story country house sitting at the top of a hill.

Sidney stepped off of the bus, hearing the doors squeak as they closed automatically behind her.

Someone on the bus yelled to her through the windows but she didn't hear them.

Her mind was in a million other places. She had completely tuned everything out the rest of the school day. Teachers would try to call on her, other kids would call her name to get her attention, and she had unintentionally ignored them.

She has good reason to be preoccupied with her thoughts. Two kids she knew and saw every day had been murdered the night before, one year after her own mother's brutal murder. She also couldn't get her mind off of the fact that Billy climbed into her bedroom window right around the time Casey and Steve were being butchered, but she hoped it was just a coincidence.

Sidney began to walk up the narrow path towards her front porch, stopping to get the mail from the box by the gate.

She looked up at the house.

It looked so huge and lonely.

She began to feel relieved that she didn't have to be alone in that house all week. Tatum was supposed to be picking her up around seven, so she would only have to be alone for a few hours.

It was a beautiful house, Victorian-style, and it had a sprawling porch and a second floor balcony that both wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house. A white picket fence that surrounded the yard added some domestic charm. Tall shrubs and flower boxes filled with brightly colored wild flowers were scattered around the porch. She was surprised that her dad was able to keep up payments on the house after her mom had been killed, but it was so old that the payments were close to being entirely paid off.

Sure, it was a gorgeous house, but it was kind of out in the middle of nowhere, isolated from the rest of Woodsboro.

And it made Sidney nervous.

If you stood on higher ground, all you could see for miles and miles around the house was wilderness, thick forests and rolling hills on either side.

But, she had nothing to be worried about, right?

Tatum would be picking her up soon, and surely, nothing could happen to her in such a short amount of time.

Sidney ambled up the front steps and stepped through the front door into the spacious foyer.

A winding staircase led up to the second floor. Straight ahead was the living room and the kitchen and off to the side was the dining room and another small sitting area.

A chill ran up her arm, as she glanced around the interior of her house, which suddenly felt much larger and lonelier than she remembered.

Just cool it, Sidney, she told herself. Nothing would happen in just a few hours. Tatum will pick you up soon.. It's just your house. You're safe at home.

That wasn't the case for Casey and Steve, Sidney thought grimly.

Just as Sidney was about to climb the stairs, she turned back towards the front door and locked it, twisting the deadbolt into place.

They usually didn't bother latching the metal chain up at the top of the door, but Sidney reached up and slid the chain into its place.

Just in case.


	5. Chapter 5-Do you Want to Die, Sidney?

It had only been an hour and a half since Sidney walked through the front door, and she had already creeped herself out more than she was comfortable with.

She was constantly hearing noises, and checking under beds and in closets. What was she so nervous about?

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, and she picked up the cordless telephone and dialed Tatum's cell number. Maybe if she heard from Tatum it would calm her nerves.

She anxiously paced her bedroom, waiting to hear Tatum's voice come over the line.

After what seemed like forever, Tatum answered the phone on the other line.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, Tatum, it's Sidney, I was just going to make sure that it was okay for me to stay at your place... I mean my dad won't be back until Sunday.." Sidney continued but Tatum cut her off.

"It's totally cool, no prob. I'll pick you up at seven. You okay?"

"Yeah... Yeah..." Sidney said, trying to instill a sense of confidence in her voice. "It's just that with the police and the reporters it's like déjà vu all over again,"

"I'll be there at seven, I promise," Tatum assured.

"Ok, thanks. Bye,"

"See ya,"

Sidney hung up the phone and tossed it onto her bed. She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It read "5:26."

She had an hour and a half to kill before Tatum got there. Maybe she could start packing an overnight bag for Tatum's house. If she had something to keep her mind busy, she wouldn't think about the murders.

Sidney walked into the hallway and headed down the stairs into the foyer, opening the tiny hall closet.

She rifled around on the top shelf until her hand found the leather handle of a navy blue duffel bag and she pulled it out.

She climbed back up the stairs and went into her room, opening her closet. She unzipped the duffel bag, and began stuffing it full with a few shirts from her closet, some underwear and socks from her dresser, and her hairbrush and a few other things she might need.

She gathered her backpack and her textbooks, went back downstairs, and placed them and her duffel bag near the front door. When Tatum arrived, she just wanted to grab her things and get the hell out of there.

She looked at the clock in the foyer.

It was 6:00.

One more hour alone in this house. Everything was going to be fine, she assured herself.

She sauntered into the living room and curled up on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning on the television set.

A young attractive newscaster flashed onto the screen, reading off of a teleprompter.

" _The bodies of 17-year old Casey Becker and her 18-year old boyfriend Steven Orth were found late last night by her parents..."_ The newscaster said, a grave expression on her face.

Sidney changed the channel.

That was the last thing she wanted to watch on TV. News about the murders.

She flipped a few more channels, hoping to find something on besides the murder story, and her eye caught something. A flashy green dress...piercing eyes...and a flashy smile...she squeezed the remote tightly as the face of Gale Weathers appeared on screen, and she felt a suddent tight feeling in her gut.

"The town is in shock, and nobody could quite believe what has happened here. Although this is not the first time the small community of Woodsboro has endured such tragedy. Only a year ago, Maureen Prescott, wife and mother, was found raped and murdered not far from this peaceful town square..." Gale continued.

A picture of her mom flashed onto the screen and Sidney felt tears surfacing...her jaw tightened as memories flooded her mind...she remembered everything like it was yesterday...

It was a dark night. Sidney remembered it had been a dark, gloomy night. It wasnt anything that anyone did or said, just the way that it felt. It was like she knew what was coming, but she didnt know exactly what it was.

It started with a phone call.

From Tatum. Asking to go to the movies with her.

She agreed, and met her there, and they saw some horror flick. Sidney didnt remember what it was, and the only thing she remembered about that night was being dropped off at the front of her house by Tatum, and everything before that was a blur.

She had walked up the front walkway towards the porch, and saw the front door standing wide open. A pang of dread hit her deep in the gut and she stepped into the house.

It was pitch black dark, and quiet. Deathly quiet. Something was wrong, she knew it.

Something was horribly wrong. They never left the front door open. Never.

"Mom?" She called into the darkened house.

Silence. It was an oppressive silence. It felt like there was a thick, gray blanket looming over the house...a huge weight on her shoulders...her chest felt weak...her heart was racing...something was wrong.

"Mom?" she called again. Still, no answer.

She turned on the hall light and stared up the winding staircase that led into pitch black darkness.

"Mom? Are you home? The door was open..." her voice trailed off as she ascended the staircase. She heard noises...someone coughing...a shuffle...and then silence.

Every muscle in her body tensed, and her breath caught in her throat.

"Mom?"

Silence.

She inched closer towards the top of the staircase, and when she reached the hallway, she froze when she saw her parents bedroom door standing wide open and a large red stain in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh my god," Sidney muttered under her breath, slowly approaching the bedroom, her heart about to break through her ribcage and pound out of her chest.

She stepped around the stain, unable to take her eyes off of the bright red color...was that blood? No, it couldnt be blood. There was no way. No fucking way.

But it was. She could smell the blood's metallic odor and she felt dizzy. She fell against the wall, unable to feel her legs. An wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and she went to her knees.

And she was able to see into the master bedroom.

And her blood ran cold.

"No...no..." she whimpered, shaking her head, not believing what she was seeing.

It was a body. On the bedroom floor. Soaked in blood. Sidney crawled into the room, her entire body trembling, seeing the body's dark, wavy hair fanned around its head, matted down with blood...it was her mother.

She was dead. A bloodstained knife lay on the floor beside her. Eight inches of steel streaked with crimson.

Sidney didnt scream or cry. She couldn't. She simply stared at her mother's lifeless corpse, feeling the emptiest feeling she had ever felt in her life. It was like someone was kicking her repeatedly in the gut. She retched, smelling the stench of the blood.

It was everywhere. On the walls. On the bed. The room was in disarray. The dresser was on its side, the sheets were flung about the room, ripped and splattered with blood.

She backed out of the room. She felt the room spinning and she grabbed the doorframe to maintain her composure.

Just as she turned to look toward the stairs, a man came out of the bathroom, and ran for the stairs...nothing but a fleeting shadowy figure making his hasty exit for the front door...she saw the blood on his hands...on his jacket...his white jacket...stained with her mother's blood

She could only watch and listen in horror, as she heard the front door open and close.

And then silence.

She blacked out after that. The only thing she remembered next was being in the back of a police car, watching her mother's body being wheeled out on a gurney. She had been reduced to a blood-stained mass on a metal slab covered by a white sheet.

That's all she was now. Ready to be probed and examined by the coroner.

She felt bad that she wasn't going crazy. That she wasn't crying hysterically and screaming and having a total mental breakdown. But she didnt even believe it was happening. It was all a blur. Everything was moving so fast, she didn't have time to stop and think or cry or scream.

Her life had just been completely shattered into tiny pieces, and she didn't know how to react.

What can you do when you just found your mother murdered? All of the blood...so much blood... She couldnt get the image out of her mind.

The next thing she remembered was sitting in the cold, dimly lit interview at the police station...Dewey was there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exasperated...he had been the first one there at the scene and almost vomited on the spot seeing Maureen on the floor like that.

Sheriff Burke sat across from her...staring at her with apologetic eyes...every wrinkle on his aged face filled with worry and compassion.

"Sidney, where is your father?" was the first thing he asked her.

She told him he was on another one of his business trips, as usual. Maybe if he hadnt been on that trip, he could have saved her, Sidney thought to herself. But she was just as much to blame. She had been at the movies with Tatum instead of home with her mother.

Maybe she could have prevented her from being murdered. If only she had decided to stay home.

"Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your mom?" he asked her.

Sidney combed through her memory, trying to remember an argument she had had, or a confrontation, but there was nothing. Everyone loved her mom, all of her friends, and Billy, and she loved them. Her dad and her mom were happily married. Who would want to kill her?

Then she remembered something. The white jacket...the man she saw leaving the house in the white jacket...she had seen that jacket before. Where? Where? she thought frantically.

She immediately recognized the white jacket and she gasped in horror as she realized who had murdered her mom.

She softly said the name. A name that would haunt her.

" _Cotton Weary...Cotton Weary murdered my mother..."_

* * *

Sidney snapped out of her thoughts and turned off the television, erasing Gale Weather's face from the screen, and she wiped tears from her eyes.

The nerve of that bitch, after Sidney went through hell with her mom being murdered, to make things worse by standing up in front of the whole world and calling Sidney a liar. And then writing a book about it.

Sidney knew what she saw. She saw Cotton leave the house that night. That was his white coat. She had seen him wearing it a thousand times. Cotton had been over at their house to discuss work matters with her dad. She had seen the way he stared at her mom. In front of her dad too. It was sickening.

Gale had the audacity to spread the rumor that Cotton, of all people, had been having an affair with Maureen, and that's why his coat was at Sidney's house that night. And she had said that Sidney was delusional after seeing her mom dead, that she just hallucinated that it was Cotton leaving the house.

And Sidney had considered it. What if it was someone else walking down the stairs that night? What if she had been wrong when she testified against Cotton? But her instincts knew better. It was Cotton. Cotton fucking Weary killed her mother, and she knew it.

There was nobody else who would have wanted her dead. Even if he was having an affair with her mother, that gave him all the more reason to kill her. What if her mom wanted out? He may have killed her over their relationship. But no one wanted to listen to Maureen's own daughter.

They all listened to Gale's lies, Gale's awful rumors about her mother being a slut and sleeping with every man in town.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Could it?

Could her mother have had an affair with Cotton?

Sure, it was possible. She just couldn't wrap her mind around her mother living that sort of life. All her life her mother pushed her to stay pure, and everyone was telling her that her mother had been a total slut. How was that possible?

Sidney let out a sigh. Sitting around thinking and worrying wouldn't do her any good.

She stood up and walked through the dining room into the sitting room, and leaned over the couch, staring out the window at the sun, sitting low in the sky, glowing dark orange, ready to disappear behind the trees. It was almost dark.

Sidney felt another knot in her gut, and she glanced at the clock again. It was 6:15.

Hurry, Tatum. Please, she thought.

Please hurry.

* * *

Sidney awoke with a jolt to find the room much darker. She glanced around wearily, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room.

I must have dozed off, Sidney thought to herself. She stared out the picture window behind her. It was pitch black outside.

Just great. It was nighttime.

She looked at the clock. It was 7:15.

 _What the hell?_ Where was Tatum? She thought.

As if on cue, the phone rang and Sidney picked up the cordless phone from the end table and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, practice ran late, I'm on my way, ok?" said Tatum apologetically.

"It's past seven," Sidney said, glancing nervously out the window.

"Don't worry. Casey and Steve didn't bite it until way after ten," Tatum said, trying to reassure Sidney, but it wasn't working.

"Oh, that's comforting," Sidney said sarcastically.

"Don't freak out, Sid. By the way, I'm swinging by the video store. I was thinking Tom Cruise in _All the Right Moves._ You know, if you pause it right, you can see his penis," Tatum joked.

Sidney forced a smile, trying not to sound as creeped out as she actually was.

"Whatever, just hurry. Bye,"

"Ta-ta, Sid," Tatum said, and she hung up the phone.

Tatum was great at coming up with witty quips and comebacks, but even Tatum's sharp sense of humor wasn't going to make her feel any safer.

She listened for a minute, hearing dogs barking in the distance and owls hooting in the dark woods across the street from her house. Everything else was silence, except for the ticking of the clock in the foyer.

She looked outside again, and started to lay her head back on the pillow, when the phone rang again.

Who could it be this time? She thought and reached for the phone.

It was probably Tatum calling back.

"Tatum, just get in the car..." Sidney started to say as she put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Sidney," a man's voice interrupted her.

It was deep and sensual. A very peculiar and distinctive voice.

Sidney furrowed her brow, confused, trying to put the voice with a face.

It definitely wasn't Tatum or anyone she knew.

"Um...hi, who is this?" Sidney asked hesitantly.

"You tell me," the man said.

Sidney frowned.

"I have no idea," she said.

"It's a scary night, isn't it? With all the murders, it's like right out of a horror movie or something?"

A knowing grin spread across Sidney's face and she rolled her eyes. _Horror movies?_ Really, Randy? she thought to herself. He couldn't be more obvious.

He really wanted this much attention from her? she thought. She knew that he had a crush on her, but she didn't know he would do something this ridiculous.

"Randy, you gave yourself away," she said, chuckling into the phone. "Look, are you calling from work, cause Tatum's on her way over and..."

"Do you like scary movies, Sidney?" the man interrupted her again.

Oh, Randy, give it up, Sidney thought.

She smiled, playing along.

"I like that thing you're doing with your voice, Randy, it's sexy," she laughed.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" the man asked.

"Oh, come on, Randy, you know I don't watch that shit," Sidney replied.

"Why not? Too scared?"

Sidney shook her head.

"No, no, it's just that they're all the same. Some stupid killer is stalking some big-breasted girl who can't act and is always running up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. It's insulting,"

Sidney waited to listen for Randy's actual voice. That probably got him good. He probably would hate that she was talking shit about his favorite thing in the world. She waited for him to break his character, and burst out laughing. But nothing came. The man went on.

"Are you alone in the house, Sidney?"

Sidney rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Randy, that's so unoriginal, I'm disappointed in you," Sidney said.

 _"Maybe that's because I'm not Randy,"_ the man rasped angrily.

Sidney froze, a little taken aback by the change in his tone.

She knew it wasn't Randy now. Randy wouldn't have been able to keep it up for this long.

"So who are you?"

"The question isn't who am I, it's where am I?" the man explained.

Sidney should have hung up the phone. But her curiosity was killing her.

"So...where are you?" she asked nervously.

" _Your front porch,"_ the man whispered.

Sidney whirled around to face the doorway leading into the foyer. Her jaw tightened and she felt the knot in her stomach twisting tighter.

Oh fuck, she thought. It was just some creep trying to screw with her. It was just Randy. Maybe Tatum and Randy had met up at the video store and decided to call her and freak her out. That's what it was, right?

Sidney inched her way into the foyer, staring daggers at the front door.

She turned on the porch lights, and stared apprehensively out the windows on either side of the door.

"Why would you be calling me from my front porch?" she asked.

 _Just hang up,_ her mind kept screaming at her, but she couldn't. Her hand squeezed the phone tightly in her right hand, and her other hand reached for the front door.

"That's the original part," the man said.

Sidney didn't want to open the door. What if someone was out there? Waiting for her to come out so she could grab her? She glanced around the foyer for some kind of a weapon but there was none.

Screw this. She flung open the door and stepped outside onto the front porch, and quickly looked around, scanning her yard.

There was nobody outside.

She listened for the sound of movement, but the only sound she could hear was her own breathing and the crickets chirping.

She walked up and down the porch, peering around the side of the house, looking for any sign of someone, and there wasn't anyone in sight.

It was just a stupid prank, Sidney thought. Someone's dumb idea of a joke.

Some random stranger found her mom's name in a phone book and dialed the number.

But how did they know her name? And they knew about the murders. Was it someone that went to school with her? It had to be someone who went to school with her. It was probably one of Stu's goofball friends. It had to be Randy. She was just surprised he actually had kept it up for this long.

Sidney put the phone to her ear.

"So, where are you?" she played along.

"Right here," the man whispered.

"Can you see me right now?" Sidney asked.

"Uh-huh?"

Sidney smiled, an idea popping into her mind.

"Ahh, okay...So what am I doing?" she asked, putting her finger up near her nose and pretending to pick.

"What am I doing? Huh? Huh?" she yelled into the phone.

She laughed. There was no answer from the other end of the phone. She had shut Randy up for good. She knew it was just a stupid prank. Really, Randy? Really? If this was his idea of flirting with her, it wasn't impressive.

"Ok, Randy, nice try. Tell Tatum to hurry up, bye," she said.

Just as her finger reached for the off button, the man spoke up.

" _IF YOU HANG UP ON ME, YOU'll DIE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER,"_

Sidney stopped dead in her tracks. It felt like someone had just kicked her in the gut.

" _Do you want to die, Sidney? Your mother sure didn't,"_ the man rasped evilly. He laughed.

It was an evil, maniacal laugh.

No way, Sidney thought. No fucking way. This couldn't be happening.

She didn't move or scream. All she could do was stand there and listen to the sinister laughter on the other line.

Waves of panic overwhelmed her as the realization hit her. Her stomach screwed tightly into a knot, and she felt a lump forming in her throat.

It was Cotton. Out of prison. Trying to finish what he started.

He had come to kill her.

"Fuck you, you cretin!" Sidney screamed into the phone, and she scrambled back inside the house in a frenzy, slamming the door shut, locking it, and sliding the chain latch into place.

All of a sudden, the hall closet door behind her came flying open and a figure ran out at her. Just as Sidney spun around, she caught a glimpse of a ghostly white mask charging at her and there was a flash of silver.

She lurched backwards as a steel blade whizzed past her, narrowly missing her by inches. Her attacker rammed his shoulder into her, and Sidney fell, the cordless phone went flying.

She began to pull herself to her feet, when the figure came down on top of her, straddling her and pinning her to the ground.

She looked up at the white mask staring down at her. He had a knife in his hands.

Sidney's fight or flight response kicked in as adrenaline trip-hammered through her system. The knife came down and as she saw the devilish blade soaring down towards her heart, she grabbed her attacker by the hand, and she swung with her other hand, hitting him, scratching him, squirming and thrashing like a caged animal underneath him.

She was going to die. The guy who killed Casey and Steve was going to kill her. No, Sidney, fight, her mind screamed. You have to fight.

Sidney arched her back, throwing her body upwards, trying to knock him off, but all of a sudden, he lifted his knee and slammed it into her midriff.

Sidney let out a pained yelp as she felt the wind being knocked out of her completely. Her body went limp, and her chest heaved, as she struggled to breathe.

All she could do was stare up at the killer, as he cocked his head to the side... Studying her... Psychotically observing his victim before he finished her off..

Sidney, dazed and out of breath, stared up at her assailant, bracing herself for impact. This was it. She was going to die. Her life was flashing before her eyes. She was going to end up just like her mom. Dead on the floor covered in blood. Some bloody mass on a gurney being loaded into an ambulance. Just another body on a metal slab at the morgue.

The killer gently ran the dull side of the knife across her throat, toying with her, staring down at Sidney with demented eyes through the dark eye holes in the mask.

It happened so fast. He raised the knife into the air, high above her head. Sidney's eyes grew wide and her body suddenly shifted back into defensive mode as she saw the razor-sharp blade of the bowie knife headed straight for her.

In the struggle, her right leg had been freed from underneath him, and she instinctively brought her leg up, slamming it into the killer's stomach, and he groaned in pain, flying backwards with immense force and crashing onto the hardwood floor.

Sidney scrambled to her feet and ran for the front door, unlocking it. As she tried to open it, the door caught on the chain.

"Shit!" Sidney exclaimed. She glanced behind her. There was no time to unlatch the door. The killer was right on top of her, coming at her with the knife.

He stabbed at her, but Sidney dove to the side. The blade of the knife impaled the doorframe, missing her hand by centimeters.

Sidney panicked and ran towards the first thing she saw: the staircase.

She sprinted up the staircase, the killer directly behind her, slashing at her lower back with the knife.

Sidney's hands grasped frantically at the wall and she found the frame of an oil canvas painting of a landscape hanging from the wall. She snatched it from the wall, wheeled around, and swung it blindly. It caught the side of the killer's head and he tumbled back down the staircase.

Sidney ran up the rest of the staircase, barreled down the hallway and into her bedroom. She slammed the door shut and locked it, looking around for anything to barricade the door.

She saw the closet door. Her makeshift barricade.

She pulled open her closet door and jammed it against the bedroom door and backed away, listening.

There was a few moments of silence. Maddening silence. It was short-lived.

With a loud bang, the killer threw his weight into the door and the lock gave way, but the bedroom door caught fast on the closet door. The killer slashed at the air with his knife through the tiny crack that had been opened between the two doors, thrashing madly, growling with anger and frustration.

Sidney stumbled backwards away from the door, sobbing hysterically, hoping the door would hold him long enough for her to come up with some sort of a plan. She glanced around the room.

Her landline on the desktop. She grasped madly at the receiver, picked it up, and put it to her ear. There was no dial tone. The phone was dead.

"Shit!" She cried, throwing the phone down and frantically searching the room for any sign of a weapon or an escape.

Should she go for the window? Where would she run when she climbed down? The nearest neighbour was no walking distance away.

She could hear the killer slamming into the door and slashing madly at nothing in a violent attempt to get to his victim, and she began to panic.

Then she remembered. After her mom died, Sidney's dad had installed a software on her computer that let her immediately connect to the police station. One of her dads many overprotective security precautions.

She scrambled to her computer desk, pushed the power button on her monitor and brought up the software on the screen. She punched in her address frantically, not even looking where she was typing; she was hitting keys in a mindless panic.

She hit the send button, and a message popped up that read "Emergency services have been contacted."

Sidney spun around to face the bedroom door,hoping that her door had held him back, and she stopped short when she saw that he was gone.

The only sound was her own panicked breathing. She inched closer to the door and peered through the crack out into the hallway. There was nobody out in the hall. He was gone.

Just as Sidney's heartbeat began to slow down, there was a loud banging behind her and she spun around like lightning.

Billy was at her bedroom window, banging on the glass frantically.

"Sidney! Sidney, are you alright?" he yelled, his eyes wide with worry.

"Billy!" she cried, relieved. She sprinted over to the window, unlatched it, and slid it open.

Billy clambered through the window into the room.

"Sidney, are you alright? I heard screaming and..." Billy started to say but he was cut off by Sidney wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Oh god, Billy, the killer's here, he's in the house.." Sidney rambled hysterically, not making any coherent sounds, too terrified to think or speak clearly.

"Shh...shh...the killer's gone. I'm here, the killer is gone," Billy whispered comfortingly, stroking Sidney's hair and returning the embrace.

Sidney trembled in Billy's arms, sobbing, burying her head in his chest.

All of a sudden, she felt something hit the floor by her foot. Sidney looked down at the floor and saw a sleek, compact, cellular phone resting on the floor near Billy's right shoe. It must have fallen out of his pocket.

Sidney looked up at Billy with confused eyes. She shook her head and began to back away in disbelief.

"What? Sidney, what's wrong?" Billy asked, not understanding.

Her gaze fell on the cellphone again, not able to take her eyes off of it. When did Billy have a cell phone? Why did he have a cell phone? He had never mentioned having a cell phone before. She had never even seen him use it.

Her mind began to race and her heart began to pound loudly in her chest, and a sensation of nausea overcame her. She felt her lunch coming up, and her head was spinning.

No, Billy isn't the killer. He couldn't be.

Then why was he at her window the night Casey and Steve were killed? And why did he have a cell phone? And why was he at her window now when the killer was just at her house a few minutes earlier?

"Sidney, what? What?" Billy asked urgently, approaching her, holding up his hands defensively. 'It's just a cell phone,"

Suddenly, he came towards her, his arms outstretched.

Sidney whirled around, flung open her barricade and sprinted towards the staircase. She blocked out the sound of Billy's voice behind her screaming her name, and she flew down the stairs two at a time, nearly falling.

Sidney bolted towards the front door, twisted the lock, unlatched the chain, and flung it open to see the killer's ghostly mask staring right back at her.


	6. UPDATED Chapter 6-Deja Vu

Sidney screamed at the top of her lungs and reeled backwards in horror at the sight of the ghostly mask her attacker had worn just a few moments earlier.

Her body relaxed when she saw it was Dewey, holding the mask out in front of him.

Dewey jumped backwards, letting out a startled yelp at Sidney's scream, lowering the mask to his side.

He held up his hands defensively.

"I found this in the yard," he exclaimed, holding up the rubber mask in his hand.

Sidney looked at the mask, flabbergasted. She glanced back towards the staircase, watching Billy come flying down the staircase, screaming Sidney's name frantically.

"He attacked me, Dewey. Billy tried to kill me," Sidney said, her voice cracking as tears flooded her eyes.

Sidney fell into Dewey's arms, sobbing as Billy stood at the foot of the stairs, his hands at his side, bewildered.

"Sidney, wha-", Billy started to say, but all of a sudden, Dewey withdrew a silver pistol and aimed the barrel at Billy's head.

"Stop right there, Loomis. You're not going anywhere,"

The side of Billy's face smashed against the hot metal hood of the police car parked in Sidney's driveway, as two intimidating and gruff police officers snapped handcuffs on his wrists.

"Do you wish to give up your right to remain silent? Do you wish to give up your right to speak to an attorney and have them present during questioning?" the younger officer yelled in a booming drill sergeant voice.

Billy squirmed helplessly in their grasp.

"I didn't do anything! Ask Sidney, she'll tell you," Billy exclaimed frantically, tugging at the handcuffs and wriggling.

The two officers ignored his pleas and heaved him to his feet, leading him towards another police car parked on the curb.

Sheriff Burke stood on the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Billy flung himself towards the Sheriff, but was roughly yanked backwards into the arms of the two officers.

"Sheriff, sheriff, call these guys off, I didn't do it!" Billy cried.

Sheriff Burke gave him a look, took his cigarette and flicked it on the ground in front of Billy, crushing it under his boot.

"Sidney! Sidney!" Billy bellowed desperately, as he was shoved into the back of the police car parked at the curb.

"Who was that?" Sheriff Burke asked Dewey, who stood nearby, not able to take his eyes off of Sidney, who was sitting wrapped in a blanket in the back of an ambulance on the other side of the country road.

"Uh…Billy Loomis. Sid's boyfriend," Dewey said.

Sheriff Burke caught the pained stare in Dewey's eyes, and followed his gaze to Sidney.

"How's she doing?" Burke asked.

Dewey sighed.

"She's tougher than she looks,"

"She'd have to be after all the shit she's been through," Burke said, shaking his head.

Sidney hugged the blanket tighter to her body, staring up into the night sky blankly.

She was trying not to glance over at Billy sitting in the back of the police car like a caged animal. Her body was being racked with every emotion in the world and they were all at war with each other.

The guilt…the uncertainty….the fear…

She could still see those demented eyes, staring down at her with such hatred and rage…through the eyeholes of that horrifying mask.

Could Billy have done it? Was he the one in the costume, on top of her, waving that knife at her like a madman? She kept combing back through the events of her attack, but it was all a blur. It happened so fast. She wanted to remember every little detail, to try to prove that it was Billy somehow. Or to disprove that it was Billy.

She shivered. She could still feel the cold blade of the knife running across her throat.

His powerful hands pinning her to the ground.

And his voice on the phone.

She kept remembering what he had said to her.

 _If you hang up on me, you'll die just like your mother…"_

She played those words over and over again in her mind, trying to think, trying to place that voice with a face.

But the voice was so distorted, so unusual…it didn't sound like anyone she knew. It didn't sound like Billy's, or Cotton's.

There was no way it was Cotton. He was on death row for murdering her mother.

She would have known about Cotton escaping earlier in the day. Unless everyone was too distracted by Casey and Steve's murder that no one acknowledged Cotton's escape from prison.

The one thing that wouldn't leave her mind was the fact that Billy had been right outside her bedroom window minutes after the killer had left.

And that he had been outside her window the night Casey and Steve were murdered.

Was it a coincidence?

She didn't know which was better.

Billy trying to kill her, or the possibility that Billy isn't the one that tried to kill her and the real attacker is still out there…waiting to strike again.

This couldn't be happening.

The police cars…the flashing lights…the interview…all of the questions that she would be inevitably asked.

It was all coming back to her.

She felt like her mother had been murdered all over again.

The police surrounding her house…her sitting in the back of an ambulance wrapped in a blanket.

It was just like the night of her mom's murder.

She thought it couldn't get worse after her mother being brutally murdered.

But it was. It was getting so much worse.

Sidney shut her eyes, trying to process what had happened. Part of her wanted to think back, to try to determine who was speaking on the other end of the line, hearing that raspy voice play over and over in her mind. She wanted to think back and remember every detail about her attacker. His weight, height, if it was a man or a woman. Another part of her wanted to forget about the whole ordeal altogether.

Either way, this wasn't just a bad dream.

This was happening.

Just an hour earlier, someone tried to kill her.

And she was alive.

She had been luckier than Casey or Steve.

She had survived.

She hoped she would have the strength to escape her attacker again.

That is, if he or she was still out there.

Sidney's thoughts were broken by a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at Sheriff Burke and Dewey hovering over her with concerned faces.

"Well, we're seeing a lot of you today," Burke said.

Sidney smiled weakly.

Are you going to be able to come down to the station and answer a few questions?"

She nodded silently.

Just then, a red Volkswagen came barreling around the corner, screeching to a stop in front of Sidney's house.

Tatum sprang from the driver's seat, slamming the door closed, terrified by the sight of police cars and ambulances surrounding her best friend's house. She began to look around frantically.

"Sidney? Oh my God, Sidney!" Tatum yelled hysterically.

She finally saw Sidney in the back of the ambulance and sprinted over towards her, her perfectly straight blond hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Sidney! Oh my god, Sidney, are you alright? I'm so sorry I was late,"

She wrapped her arms around Sidney and hugged her tightly.

Dewey gingerly intervened, pulling Tatum off of Sidney.

"Tatum, you can't be here, it's an official crime scene," Dewey scolded in a fatherly tone.

"Dewey, it's okay," Sidney said.

Tatum spun around to face her older brother, giving him a dirty look.

"Her dad's out of town, and she's staying with us tonight," Tatum snapped.

"Does Mom know?"

"Yes, doofus,"

Tatum coined that nickname for Dewey in ninth grade, and it was her go-to insult whenever Dewey got on her nerves. And Dewey hated it.

Dewey let out a frustrated sigh, took off his hat, and ran his hands through his dark hair nervously.

Tatum bent back down to Sidney, her eyes wide with worry.

"Sid, are you okay? What happened?" Tatum asked.

"I'm okay. We'll talk tonight," Sidney said.

Sheriff Burke turned to one of his deputies standing idly on the sidewalk.

"Hey, you, get this kid into one of the cars and get her back to the station," Sheriff Burke ordered.

The young blond deputy on the sidewalk hurried over to the ambulance, helped Sidney to her feet, and walked her over to one of the many police cars scattered around the residence.

Sheriff Burke let out a deep sigh, rubbing his brow anxiously.

He glanced down at the rubber mask still clutched in Dewey's hand.

Dewey held up in front of him.

"Creepy, huh?"

All of a sudden, a tan-colored newsvan came careening down the long desolate country road and pulled to an abrupt halt, almost bowling over another reporter and her cameraman.

Gale Weathers banged open the passenger side door, a shiny microphone grasped in her hand, her hair and makeup still perfectly done, her tight skirt perfectly accentuating her long slender legs.

Her eyes widened with ecstasy.

She knew this house. She had a feeling when she heard the street name over the police radio.

It was Sidney Prescott's house. And there were police crawling all over it.

She smiled deviously.

"Well, I'll be damned," she said, her heart pounding with excitement.

Behind her, Gale's burly cameraman, Kenny, clambered out of the driver's seat, his massive video camera resting on his shoulder.

Gale snapped at Kenny with her hand, not bothering to look at him.

"Jesus, the camera hurry!" she exclaimed firmly.

"My name isn't Jesus," Kenny muttered under his breath.

Gale walked towards the house, her bright red high heels digging into the asphalt, her long, slender legs moving purposefully.

A squad car sped past Gale, and she thought she caught a glimpse of Sidney in the backseat. She ran over to a deputy and jammed her microphone in his face.

` "Was Sidney in there? What can you tell me about this scene? I heard something about a costume, what about a costume?"

The deputy held up his hand and shoved the microphone away.

"Can you tell me anything, goddamnit?!" she shrieked.

Still no response from the stone faced deputy.

"Shit," Gale muttered under her breath and turned to face the road. Tatum was walking hurriedly to her car.

Gale sprinted towards her, and ran alongside her.

Tatum gave her a death glare.

"Was that Sidney Prescott in that car?" Gale asked, holding the microphone to her face.

Tatum swatted the microphone away.

"I'm not talking to you," she said coldly.

"What happened to her?" Gale hammered her again. "Can you tell me anything?"

Tatum spun around and got as close as she could to gale's face.

"Yeah, you're a real pain in the ass," Tatum remarked.

And with that, she flung open the door to her red Volkswagen, climbed inside, and sped off, following the squad car.

Gale was frozen with anger. She took a deep breath and spun around to see Kenny shambling lazily over to where Gale was, unable to keep up and breathing heavily.

"Look, Kenny," Gale said, clasping her hands.

"Yeah?"

"I know you're about fifty pounds overweight. But when I say hurry, please interpret that as move your fat tub of lard ass NOW!" Gale screamed, snatched the Snickers bar out of his right hand, tossed it into the bushes, and stormed back towards the newsvan.

Why me? Sidney thought, staring at the blank gray walls of the interrogation room.

He could have chosen any house to break into and anyone else in town to attack. But why her?

Her house was on the outskirts of town, far from the police. Just like Casey's.

She would have believed that it was just a random attack if not for what the sick fuck had said on the phone.

 _You'll die just like your mother…_

There was no way it was a random attack.

It was almost exactly one year after her mother's murder.

It was all connected.

If Sidney hadn't gone out for the night, she might have ended up just like her mother. Raped and murdered in her room, another bloody crime scene.

The killer was back to finish what he started.

Sidney hung her head, and rubbed her temples.

Her mind was in a complete jumble. Everything she had believed over the past year was a lie.

For the first time, she actually was seriously questioning whether or not Cotton was the murderer of her mother.

The door opened and Dewey came into the room with Sherriff Burke. They both sat down and pressed play on the tape recorder sitting in the center of the table.

"Hi, Sidney…you doing okay?" Sheriff Burke said.

Sidney nodded weakly.

"Dumb question, eh?"

"Sidney, we can't get a hold of your father. Are you sure it was the Hilton he was staying at?" Dewey asked.

Sidney nodded.

"At the airport,"

"He's not registered there," Burke said. "Could he have stayed somewhere else?"

Sidney scoffed. Now her dad was missing. What was next?

"I don't know, I guess…" Sidney said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Sid, we'll find him," Dewey said, touching her hand sympathetically.

Sidney couldn't hold it in anymore.

"It…It has to be Cotton," Sidney said.

Dewey shook his head.

"Sidney, Cotton's in jail,"

Sidney shook her head.

"It was Cotton on the phone, I know it. He told me he was the same guy who killed my mother,"

"We know, Sidney, but there's no way. We've called San Quentin and Cotton is there," Burke replied.

Sidney leaned back in the chair, shaking her head, holding back tears.

"Then I don't know who it could be…"

Sidney's voice trailed off and she remembered Billy.

'Except for Billy, but…"

"Sidney, we think it's strange how Billy happened to show up right after you were attacked," Burke said.

"I know…I know…" Sidney said. She had to tell them. She had to tell them what she knew. Everything about how Billy was at her window the night of Casey and Steve's murder.

She didn't even hear herself say it. Her mind totally blanked so she didn't have to hear herself accuse Billy as her attacker and the cold-blooded killer of two people.

Dewey and Sheriff Burke gave each other a look, and whispered to each other.

Sidney tuned them out and turned to look through the window into the hallway, where Billy was being led down the hallway into an interrogation room by two deputies.

Before he disappeared, he craned his neck to make eye contact with her, and Sidney felt him staring into her soul.

She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, trying to see her boyfriend, trying to see the boy that she loved…and all she saw was pure evil.

* * *

Hank Loomis looked like he'd had the life sucked out of him, even more so than he usually did ever since his wife left him.

His hands were clasped rigidly in his lap and he shifted positions uncomfortably in the chair beside his son.

Sheriff Burke sat in the chair on the other side of the table, sipping coffee from a mug.

"Why don't you tell me what you are doing with a cellular phone, son?" Burke asked Billy with an accusatory tone.

Billy looked up from the floor and shrugged.

"Everybody's got one, Sheriff. I didn't make those phone calls, I swear," Billy protested.

"Why don't you check phone records for Christ sake? Call Vital Phone comp, they've got a record of every number dialed," Hank said, growing agitated.

"Thanks Hank, we're on top of it," Burke said sarcastically. He looked at Billy. 'What were you doing at Sidney's house tonight?"

"I wanted to see her, that's all,"

"And last night? She says you climbed through her bedroom window last night too,"

"I was watching TV; I got bored and thought I'd go for a ride,"

"Did you happen to ride by Casey Becker's house too?" Burke asked.

Billy shot daggers at Burke.

"No, no I didn't. I didn't kill anybody," he said indignantly.

Burke stared at him, eyeing him up and down carefully, for a few quiet moments before standing to his feet.

"We're going to have to hold you until we pull those phone records, son,"

Billy shook his head in frustration, fighting back tears.

"This is crazy…" he muttered under his breath.

Mr. Loomis placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, and gave Burke a pleading look.

Burke gave him a slight shrug, and a "I'm just doing my job" look, and left the room, meeting Dewey coming around the corner.

Dewey was holding the killer's ghost mask, wrapped in store packaging, "Father Death" emblazoned in bold letters across the front of the wrapper.

"This mask is sold at every five and dime in the state. There's no way we can track the purchase," Dewey sighed.

Sheriff Burke sighed too, rubbing the wrinkles on his forehead.

"What about the cellular phone bill?"

"We are pulling Loomis's account, but we won't know anything til morning. And still no word on Sidney's father. It's like he's vanished,"

Behind them, two guards led Billy out of the interrogation room and down the hallway towards the holding cells, where he passed Sidney sitting by one of the desks talking to Tatum.

"Come on, Sid…you know me, Sidney!" Billy pleaded, struggling in the guard's grasp.

"Sidney!" he yelled one last time, and then disappeared behind a set of double doors, while Sidney put her hand up to the side of her face, trying not to look as her boyfriend was being led away in handcuffs.

Dewey shook his head.

"You think he did it?" he asked.

Burke threw his hands in the air.

"Twenty years ago I woulda said not a chance. But with these kids today….damned if I know,"

Dewey looked back towards Sidney, to see Tatum moving purposefully towards them, clearly displeased.

"Dewey, can we go?"

Dewey held up his hand in protest.

"Not yet. Give us a minute,"

"Goddamnit, Dewey!" Tatum exclaimed in exasperation.

Dewey turned to her, his face growing red.

"What did mom tell you? When I wear this badge, you treat me like a man of the law," he said, his voice cracking like a twelve year old boy's.

Tatum rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, Deputy Dewey, but Sidney is ready to go, and so am I,"

Tatum spun around on her heels, and walked back over to Sidney.

Dewey clenched his fist at her.

Burke stifled a laugh and patted Dewey on the back.

"Take her out the back and avoid the media circus out front,"

Tatum put her arm around Sidney and ushered her towards the back hallway, with Dewey in pursuit.

* * *

The Woodsboro Police station was a small two-story brick building in the town square, and it wouldn't have stood out from any of the other buildings….but tonight it was surrounded by news vans and a throng of reporters and cameramen.

Gale Weathers threw open the sliding back door to the news van and hopped out, her bright red heels digging into the gravel.

She checked her appearance in the rear view mirror, flashing a smile, and wiping lipstick off her teeth.

Kenny lumbered out of the driver's side, still munching on an Oreo, and holding the camera on his shoulder.

Gale frantically gestured for Kenny to hurry, and jogged towards the police station.

"Gale, they aren't letting anyone in," Kenny called after her.

She snapped her head around.

"I'm not just anybody,"

She pushed past an officer, and began to knife through the crowd up the marble steps when a guard stepped in front of her, holding his arms out like a brigade.

"Hey, watch it; do you know who you're dealing with here?" Gale barked.

"No one is allowed inside the station, m'am," he said with a stone face.

"Fuck," Gale cried.

"I tried to tell you," Kenny said.

She shushed him with a flick of her hand, and moved sideways through the crowd, elbowing any bare flesh she saw.

She sprinted around the side of the building away from the crowd and from a side door, came Sidney, Dewey and Tatum making their way towards a police-owned station wagon.

Gale's eyes lit up, and she hoofed it down the sidewalk, holding her microphone out in front of her.

"Sidney Prescott!" she screamed.

Sidney spun around, and seeing who was coming towards her, the color drained from her face.

Her fists clenched by her side.

Gale stuck the microphone into her face.

"Sidney, hi! Some night huh? Mind answering a few questions?"

Tatum sidestepped Gale and sandwiched herself in between the microphone and Sidney.

"She's not answering any of your questions," Tatum declared.

Sidney brushed her aside.

"No, it's okay, Tatum. She's just doing her job," Sidney said, putting on the fakest smile she could muster.

Let's see what this bitch has to say, Sidney thought.

"Yes, that's right," Gale smiled, surprised at Sidney's cooperation.

"How's the book?" Sidney asked.

"It'll be out later this year,"

"Oh? I'll look for it," Sidney said in the most mockingly sincere tone she could manage.

Gale grinned. She knew exactly which button to push.

"I'll send you a copy,"

What happened next was all a blur. Without warning, Sidney reared back and delivered a powerful right hook to the left side of Gale's face, and she went reeling backwards into Kenny's arms.

The few reporters that had swarmed in behind Gale all gasped in shock, snapping pictures rapidly of what had just happened and mumbling excitedly.

Kenny helped Gale to her feet, as she rubbed the side of her face in pain, and stared in disbelief at Sidney, who gave Gale an icy yet satisfied death glare.

Tatum was smirking.

"Nice shot," she said.

Dewey, after a moment of being frozen with disbelief, grabbed Sidney by the arm, and yanked her towards the station wagon.

* * *

The Riley House was a large, two-story ranch-style house at the end of a quiet suburban street. It felt safe to Sidney, at least, in the essence that there were actually neighbors who would be able to hear screams and help out if any of them needed help. But even with that comfort, Sidney was still on edge the rest of the night.

Tatum's bedroom was surprisingly effeminate and tweenish for a girl like Tatum. Two twin beds covered in pink frilly blankets and stuffed animals, walls covered in calendars, Tom Cruise and Leo DiCaprio posters, and Polaroids.

Sidney was lying on the bed on the left, in a pink nightshirt, staring blankly at the ceiling while Tatum bounced softly on the bed on the right, clutching a stuffed bunny.

"God, I loved it. 'I'll send you a copy'," Tatum said, mocking Gale. She hit the stuffed bunny playfully. "BAM! Bitch went down! BAM! Sid super bitch! You were so cool,"

Sidney forced a smile, glancing at her right fist, which was red from where she had hit Gale.

The door to the room opened and Dewey came in, clutching an ice pack.

"Thought you might need something for that right hook," he said, tossing her the ice pack.

Sidney caught it, and placed it on her hand.

"Thanks,"

"I'll be right next door," Dewey said. "If you need anything, just yell"

Tatum rolled her eyes and shooed him with her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah,"

Dewey moved out the door, closing it behind him.

Sidney sighed, and rolled over onto her side.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Tatum spoke up.

"Do you think Billy did it?"

Sidney hesitated.

"He was there, Tatum,"

"Well, I knew he was too perfect," Tatum said, smiling. "He was destined to have a flaw,"

Sidney forced another smile, trying to feel a sense of humor, but nothing could make her genuinely laugh after tonight.

She kept seeing Billy's face and trying to put it under that mask, trying to hear Billy's voice with that distorted voice on the phone, to no avail. She kept hearing what the man had said on the phone… the demented horrible things… _Do you want to die? Your mother sure didn't…_

And in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel he was still out there…watching, waiting for the right time…maybe he never planned to kill her tonight after all?...what if that was just him practicing for the real thing? Just to scare her?

If not Cotton and not Billy…then who? Who was doing this?

That was the question that was haunting her.

What was worse? Her own boyfriend being accused of attempted murder and being put in jail…or her attacker still on the loose?

Her thoughts were broken by the door to the room opening and Tatum and Dewey's mother, a friendly-faced grey haired woman, come into the room.

"Sidney, the telephone. It's for you," Mrs. Riley said.

Sidney sat up in a flash.

"Is it my dad?"

"No…I don't think so." Mrs. Riley said.

Who could this be? Sidney wondered, climbing off the bed and heading out into the hallway.

She reached for the phone on the small table in the hall and put it to her ear.

"Hello,"

" _Hello, Sidney,"_

It was him. The killer.

Sidney felt her entire body growing weak and she let out a cry. This can't be fucking happening again.

"No!"

Tatum perked up and bolted out into the hallway, coming to Sidney's side.

"Sidney, who is it?"

" _Poor Billy boyfriend… An innocent man doesn't stand a chance with you…"_ the man rasped evilly.

"Leave me alone!" Sidney yelled into the phone, fighting tears.

Mrs. Riley's eyes grew wide and she began to knock on Dewey's bedroom door frantically.

" _Looks like you fingered the wrong guy…again."_

"Who are you?" Sidney asked, her voice cracking, tears beginning to fall.

" _You'll find out soon enough. I promise"_

And with that, the line went dead. The phone fell from Sidney's onto the floor and she let out a heaving sob as Tatum comforted her.

Dewey came running headlong into the hallway, wearing only an undershirt and boxers, wielding his gun.

He picked up the phone lying on the floor and put it to his ear.

"Hello? Hello? Who the hell is this?" Dewey barked into the receiver.

Mrs. Riley just stood to the side, her face a mix of fear and confusion.

What did he mean? Sidney thought. What the fuck did he mean? _You'll find out soon enough. Looks like you fingered the wrong guy…again._

She knew exactly what he meant.

The killer wasn't Cotton. Or Billy.

She had put two innocent men in jail.

The killer was still out there. And he wasn't going to stop until she was dead.

He was going to finish what he started one year ago.


	7. Chapter 7-Back to School

Sidney shuffled wearily into the kitchen, greeted by the delicious smell of breakfast from Mama Riley in a robe frying eggs and bacon at the stove.

But this morning, she had no appetite.

Tatum was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed to kill as usual in low cut white sports jersey and tight red leather pants, munching on a piece of toast.

Dewey stood at the back door, talking on a wall telephone, dressed in uniform.

She rubbed away the bags under her eyes, trying to make it seem like she got at least some sleep.

But, she was sure they knew. All she could do last night was hear the killer's voice over and over in her head like a broken record, and see that horrible ghost mask burned into her memory.

A small portable television sat on a table across from the kitchen table; the news was on.

"… _Sidney Prescott was viciously attacked last night, one year after the brutal murder of her mother Maureen. Police are still investigating whether or not this attack is related to the death of her mother or the deaths of two Woodsboro high school students the night before…"_

Sidney desperately attempted to block out the sound of the news, as she walked over to the kitchen table and sat down beside Tatum.

Tatum's eyes grew wide with worry.

"God, Sid, you alright? You tossed and turned all night last night,"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sidney lied, trying to act at least a little bit together.

" _…Last year, Sidney accused Cotton Weary of raping and murdering her mother, who now sits on death row…"_

On the TV, they showed Cotton in an orange jumpsuit being put into the back of a police car.

He looked the same as one year ago, when Sidney had pointed to him in a courtroom and said he was the man who killed her mother.

Just a normal, average-looking guy, at least, before prison. Now he looked haggard and worn, and his facial hair was scruffy and unkempt.

Sidney closed her eyes, trying to block out his face from her mind.

Tatum put a consoling hand on Sidney's shoulder.

"You know, I really don't think you girls should go to school today," Mrs. Riley chimed in from the stove.

"Your objection is duly noted," Tatum quipped.

"No, it's okay, Mama Riley. I'd feel safer around a lot of people," Sidney said.

Dewey hung up the phone, and hearing what the TV was saying, he turned it off with the remote.

Dewey sat down at the table across from the two girls as Mrs. Riley put a plate of food in front of him.

"Sidney, you don't want anything?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"No, thanks," Sidney said.

Something about almost being killed had a crazy effect on your appetite.

Dewey hesitated, and then spoke up, almost as if he was reluctant to say what he wanted to say.

"Billy didn't make those phone calls. His records were checked and they're clean," Dewey said, watching Sidney as her jaw stiffened. "They released him this morning,"

Sidney sat back in her chair, and put her head in her hand, letting out a sigh.

"They're checking every cellular account in the county and cross-referencing every call made to you or to Casey Becker," Dewey continued. "It's going to take some time, but we'll find him,"

How much time did she have? Sidney thought to herself. How long before the killer made his next move?

He was out there…watching her…Waiting for her to slip up…waiting for her to be alone so he could strike…she didn't have time.

Time was running out.

* * *

The campus of Woodsboro High was still as much of a circus as it was the day before.

Reporters, hungry for teenage insight, hammered students with questions, shoving microphones and camera in their face. The grassy lawn was dotted with news crews and vans, reporters, and throngs of bystanders trying to hear the latest breaking information.

It was even crazier, now that the killer had supposedly struck again.

Dewey's tan station wagon screeched to a halt outside the front of the school, and Dewey hopped out, opened the back door, and let Tatum and Sidney out onto the sidewalk.

"It's okay, Sidney. Its school, you'll be safe here. And I'll be on campus all morning…" Dewey continued, when as if on cue, a red-haired female reporter lunged at Sidney from the crowd, jamming a microphone in her face.

"Sidney, how does it feel to almost be brutally butchered?!" the reporter yelled.

Sidney shrunk back against the car, feeling a lump form in her throat.

"Hey, hey, leave her alone," Dewey said, holding out his arms and keeping the reporter back, as Tatum grabbed Sidney by the arm and pulled her down the sidewalk away from her.

"We have a right to know!" the reporter yelled, but Sidney didn't hear. She was blocking out all sounds; she just wanted to get inside the school and get through this day.

She didn't want to be at school. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

But, she knew she was unsafe at home by herself.

At least at school, she was with people. Safety in numbers, right?

Sidney and Tatum were booking it headlong through the crowd, ignoring any reporters that tried to talk to them.

It was times like these she was grateful for Tatum, who had no problem with bulldozing through large crowds screaming "Get out of my way!"

Just then, Sidney glanced towards the street where a tan news van was parked under a tree.

She came to an abrupt halt, yanking Tatum back.

"What?" Tatum asked, seeing the focused stare on Sid's face.

The stare turned ice cold as Sidney noticed Gale Weathers sitting in the passenger seat, her long legs hanging over the side, applying makeup to the purplish-black welt Sidney gave her on her left cheek.

"Oh, come on, Sid, don't get into it with her again," Tatum protested.

"Just a sec," Sidney said, motioning to Tatum to wait for her there.

Sidney began to walk across campus towards Gale, leaving Tatum to wonder if she was going to have to pull her out of a catfight.

But, Sidney didn't want to fight. She wanted to ask Gale why. Why print all those lies about her and her mother? Why ruin her life? She had to know.

She didn't want to fight or argue. She just had a few words to say to Gale, so she could finally get it off of her chest.

That was it.

She hoped her temper wouldn't get the best of her. She didn't need an assault charge tacked on to her being hunted by a psychopath.

Gale caught sight of Sidney strolling purposefully towards her, and she held up her finger, catching Sidney with a hateful glare.

"Stop right there," Gale warned, reaching in her purse for pepper spray.

Sidney held up her hands in surrender.

"I don't want to fight; I just want to talk,"

Gale's eyes lit up.

"Kenny! Camera! Now!" she yelled into the back of the newsvan and hopped out of the passenger seat onto the sidewalk, holding out her microphone.

Finally, her chance for an interview.

"Off the record, no cameras," Sidney said, with a look.

"Forget it," Gale said, scoffing.

"Please? You owe me," Sidney pleaded.

"I owe you shit" Gale retorted scornfully.

"You owe my mother," Sidney said.

Gale's demeanor changed. Sidney thought she might have detected a hint of sympathy. In Gale Weathers? Nah, probably not.

Gale turned to Kenny and motioned for him to stop recording.

"Look, Sidney, your mother's murder was last year's hottest court case. Somebody was going to write a book about it," Gale said.

"Yeah, and it had to be you with all your lies and bullshit theories," Sidney said.

"What is your problem? You got what you wanted, Cotton Weary is in jail; they're going to gas him. A book isn't going to change that,"

Sidney paused, her jaw tightening.

"Do you still think he's innocent?" Sidney asked.

"Your testimony put him away, it doesn't really matter what I think,"

"During the trial, you did all those stories about me and called me a liar,"

"I think you falsely identified him, yes,"

"Have you talked to Cotton?"

"Many times,"

"Has his story changed?"

"Not one word. He admits to having sex with your mother but that's all" Gale said.

Sidney shook her head in disgust.

"He's lying; she never would have touched him. He raped her…" Sidney continued, her voice growing louder and more distressed.

Students and reporters were starting to look over at her, and Sidney hushed her voice.

"He butchered her; her blood was all over his coat,"

Sidney was slowly becoming undone, tears welling up in her eyes. Gale maintained every bit of her graceful composure.

"He was drunk that night. He left his coat at your mother's house after they had sex,"

Sidney looked Gale dead in the eyes.

"I saw him leave wearing it,"

"No, you saw someone leave wearing it. The same person who actually killed your mother and placed it in Cotton's car, framing him," Gale said matter-of-factly.

Sidney had heard it for the millionth time; the man in the white coat wasn't Cotton.

She knew what she saw. Cotton was the man in that white coat that she saw leaving the house covered in blood. She would have taken it to her grave.

Was he? The killer's voice repeated again in her head. "… _Looks like you fingered the wrong guy…again"_

Sidney's mind was racing. She knew what she saw but at the same time, she knew that someone else was out there after her…someone almost murdered her last night…and someone was really trying to scare her. The same someone who knows an awful lot about her and her mother's murder.

Could it be possible that Sidney sent an innocent man to prison? The possibility was there, and had been there since the trial, way in the back of Sidney's mind, and she was just now beginning to realize the horrible truth.

But for whatever reason, she wasn't about to give Gale the satisfaction.

"No…Cotton murdered my mother," Sidney said shakily.

Gale heard the doubt in her voice, and lit up with realization.

She stared into Sidney's soul.

"You're not so sure anymore are you? The killer is still out there, and these murders are related. You're just too scared to admit it, aren't you?"

Sidney froze with disbelief.

 _She was right…you're right…the killer is still out there and he's after me…_

She wanted to scream and lunge at Gale, wanted to grab her by the neck and squeeze as hard as she could. Goddamn her for being right.

Fuck her.

Sidney slowly backed away, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No…it was Cotton. Sorry I mangled your face," Sidney said, turned on her heels, and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Sidney slammed her locker shut, leaned against it, and let out a huge sigh.

She ignored the sound of people walking behind her, hurrying to class, laughing, cutting up, and closed her eyes, focusing on her thoughts.

A lump formed in her throat, and she felt tears welling up, and she turned to face the locker as she began to cry.

It was the first time she had actually cried since the murder.

It felt so weak…so helpless…but a huge relief at the same time.

The truth was that Gale was right. Sidney was too scared to admit it.

Cotton didn't murder her mother. It was someone else. Someone else who was there at her house. Someone else who raped, tortured, and stabbed her mother so many times that it left her body almost unrecognizable. Someone who gutted her like a pig and left her organs lying on the floor around her.

Someone else who murdered Casey Becker and Steven Orth and almost killed her.

They were out there…waiting to make their next move…

Fuck, why her? Why did she have to live in a real life horror movie? She could be like a normal teenager and go out on dates and have her first kiss and study for tests and get ready for college. But fuck that, because she was now having to face terrifying adult situations at such a young age and it was robbing her of everything great about adolescence.

It wasn't fucking fair.

It just wasn't fair.

She wanted to scream.

 _FUCK YOU WHOEVER IS DOING THIS…JUST FUCKING SHOW YOURSELF…_ she wanted to run outside and scream and cry and hit the ground.

 _JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY…_

Why were they playing this game? Why couldn't they just jump out and get it over with?

Ok, get it together, Sidney. Get it together. You're better than this. You're stronger than this. This is life. Life has no double jeopardy.

One shitty thing can happen right after the next and you have to deal with it.

Get yourself together, Sidney thought. Pull yourself together, damnit.

Sidney wiped the tears from her eyes, and turned to face Tatum, coming towards her with a green lollipop in her mouth, who could immediately tell something was up.

"Hey…hey...are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. This was a mistake, Tatum. I shouldn't be here today,"

Tatum hugged Sidney tightly.

"I can go find Dewey and we can get the hell out of her if you want…" Tatum said.

Sidney smiled.

"No, it's fine. I'm already here. I'll tough it out,"

Tatum smiled and gave her a playful punch in the arm.

"You're at school, you're safe here"

"Yeah, but if it's not Billy, it could be anyone. They could be in school right now,"

"Serial killers are smart. They minimize their risks. They plan and precalculate everything. Showing up here would be a stupid move," Tatum explained.

Tatum sometimes surprised Sidney with her intellect at times.

"He promised me that he'd be back,"

"I wouldn't put too much stock in a psycho's promise," Tatum said, licking her lollipop.

Sidney gave her a conceding look.

Stu suddenly dashed around the corner, and tackled Tatum into the lockers with a guffaw of laughter.

Tatum giggled as he nibbled on her neck playfully.

"Stu, knock it off," she said, laughing and swatting at him.

Stu draped his arm around her and noticed Sidney standing there, still wiping tears from her eyes.

"Hey, Sid. Billy's around somewhere,"

Sidney's face drained of color.

"Oh, great. Just what I need. I'll bet he's pissed,"

"Yeah, after you branded him the Candyman, his heart is broken,"

Tatum punched him as hard as she could, and gave him a stern look of disappointment.

"You open your mouth and stupidity pours out," Tatum quipped, hitting him in the forehead with her lollipop.

"Easy, it's a joke," Stu protested.

Sidney almost wanted to defend him. He was right. Anyone would be pissed about being put in jail.

Billy had a girlfriend who constantly refused to have sex with him because of mommy issues, and put him in jail for attempted murder. Yep, she was a keeper.

` Sidney turned to look down the hallway for Billy.

But she didn't see Billy.

She saw the killer coming down the hallway towards her.

Clad in the same costume…black cloak…and the terrifying ghost mask.

He was holding a knife in his hand.

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Gale muttered to herself in delight.

Holy shit, she thought. An innocent man on death row, put away by the daughter of a murder victim, and now the killer was back one year later going after the daughter and her friends.

It was brilliant.

This would make headlines all across the nation.

And whose name would they see? Whose face would be plastered all over the screen?

Gale Fucking Weathers, that's who.

God, it was like something straight out of a big city like New York or LA. Like something out of some Hitchcock movie.

All those years of shitty ratings and tiny, obscure news stations and sitting on the sidelines while her colleagues were getting huge breaks and huge network salaries were finally paying off.

A year from now, her book would be published, Cotton Weary would be released from prison, the real killer would be behind bars, that is, if the hick police in this backwater town can find him, and Gale would be in the Caribbean, feasting on prawn shrimp, cocktails, and the rest of her royalties.

Imagine what she could acquiesce from Cotton Weary? He would be forever grateful. Imagine how devoted he would be? She could have him wrapped around her little finger.

This was too perfect.

Of course, it all was justice being served. Cotton Weary was convicted all because of Sidney's heartbreaking testimony of how she found her mother's body and saw Cotton there at the scene.

There was absolutely no DNA evidence, if there was any; it wasn't presented at the trial.

The only evidence was the bloody coat and Sidney's testimony.

If the jury hadn't been prone to feel sympathy for a traumatized 16-year old, Cotton never would have been convicted.

It was a tragedy that happened too often in criminal cases.

How dare she make a living off of the tragedies of others, you ask? The same way anyone else lived out their days.

It's only human nature to live for yourself and take what's yours, and if the fame for telling a story involving the tragedies of others was hers to own, so be it.

She didn't lose sleep because of it, and she shouldn't have to.

"Kenny, can you fucking believe it?" she asked, laughing with delight.

Kenny sat in the driver's seat, now gorging himself on a Debbie cake.

"An innocent man about to be executed, a killer still on the loose, Kenny…"

She reached out and grabbed his forearm, squeezing it tight.

"…tell me I'm dreaming…"

Gale bounced in her seat ecstatically.

She whipped out her pocket mirror, and flashed a sexy grin.

` "You want to go live?" Kenny asked, gesturing to the camera in the back.

"No, no…" Gale said, her thoughts trailing off, her mind racing with possibilities. "No, we don't have anything concrete,"

"You can't just sit on this. This is huge!" Kenny exclaimed, licking his fingers.

"No…If I'm going to blow this up, I need hard proof,"

"When has that ever stopped you? It's easier when we make stuff up," Kenny said.

"Yeah, but this time, a man's life depends on it. I owe Cotton that much. Hell, even I thought he was guilty,"

Despite popular belief, Gale did actually have a heart. Maybe it was a bit cold and black, but it was there. And it craved the truth, no matter what it took to get there.

Cotton was an innocent man, and she was going to set out to prove it, no matter the cost.

She was willing to die to get her story.

* * *

Sidney's entire body went numb as she saw the ghost mask rapidly approaching…the knife raised in his right hand…a huge knot twisted in her gut, so powerful it almost knocked her to the floor…

And the next moment was a blur. As the killer was about a foot from where she stood, she lashed out her right foot, connecting with the killer's groin.

The man in the mask crumpled to the floor with a whimper of a hurt little boy.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Sidney screamed at him, reached down and yanked off his mask to see the pained face of a ginger-haired preteen.

"It was just a joke!" he cried, followed by a moan of agony as he clutched his manhood.

Sidney's jaw dropped, letting the mask fall to the floor.

She also saw the "knife" on the floor beside him. It was rubber.

She saw the crowd of students gathering around, staring down at the boy in shock and then up at Sidney.

"Sidney!" Tatum cried out.

Everything was spinning and moving in slow motion at the same time. She felt the lump in her throat again and more tears were flooding her eyes.

She took off down the hallway, Tatum calling her name behind her.

She didn't know how many corners she turned before she realized she was all alone. She leaned against the lockers and cried again, deep heaving sobs wracking her body.

She didn't know how much longer she could hold on. Maybe Tatum was right. Maybe it was time to go find Dewey and get the hell out of here.

Just as she stopped crying, she turned around right into the arms of someone and she lurched backwards in shock.

She heard a familiar voice protesting in surrender.

"Hey, hey, it's just me! It's just me!" The voice said.

Sidney knew the voice all too well.

She was staring right up into the eyes of Billy. His face was dirty, there were bags under his eyes, and his hair was a disheveled mess.

Sidney pressed herself back against the lockers, taking a defensive position.

"Billy…what are you doing here?"

"You still think it's me, don't you?" Billy asked, his eyes staring into her soul.

Sidney forced herself to relax, and shook her head, keeping an eye out for anyone else in the hallway that could help.

They were all alone.

"Uh…no…no I don't," Sidney stammered nervously, feeling her heart racing a mile a minute. "But…someone did try to kill me last night, Billy,"

"I know…the cops said I scared him away," Billy said reassuredly. "Sidney, it wasn't me,"

Sidney wanted to believe him, but the knot in her stomach was still telling her otherwise.

Then she remembered the phone call last night at Tatum's house. It couldn't have been him.

She felt her body relax, her muscles loosen, and her breathing return to normal.

"Yeah…um…" Sidney stammered, regaining her composure. "I know…the killer called me last night at Tatum's house,"

"See…it couldn't have been me. I was in jail, remember," Billy said.

He held up his hand, showing the ink on his fingertips.

Sidney took a deep breath and stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry…please understand,"

"Sorry for what? That I have a girlfriend who would rather accuse me of being a psychopathic killer than touch me?"

That felt like a kick in the stomach.

"Now you know that's not true," she said, reaching out to touch him, and Billy backed away.

"Then, what is it?"

"Maybe it's because I was attacked and nearly filleted last night," Sidney said defensively.

"Not that, I'm talking about us…you haven't been the same since your mom died,"

Sidney fought back more tears, not believing what she was hearing.

"Is your brain leaking? I can't believe you're bringing this up when I was almost…" Sidney started to say.

Billy interrupted.

"It's been a year,"

"Tomorrow…it will be one year tomorrow," Sidney corrected him, trying to contain herself.

"I think it's time you let go of that, Sidney. When my mom left my dad, I accepted it and moved on. She's not coming back," Billy said.

Sidney felt another jab to her gut.

Her eyes searched him rapidly for something to say as she struggled to maintain herself and not go insane.

"Your parents split up. This isn't the same thing, your mom is in another town she's not lying in a coffin somewhere," Sidney said sharply.

"Ok, ok…Sorry. It was a bad analogy. But…" Billy continued, his eyes beginning to well up with tears also. "I want my girlfriend back,"

Sidney took one last long look at him, in utter disbelief.

"I'm sorry that my traumatized life is an inconvenience to you and your perfect existence," Sidney said, feeling her body going weak and more tears surfacing.

She spun around before he could see her lose control of her body, and she sprinted off down the hallway, ignoring Billy's yelling behind her, blocking out every sound, not even realizing she was now skipping class.

She barreled down another short hallway, and found the girls restroom, slipping inside and heading for the sink.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she felt absolutely helpless.

Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and tears were falling down her face.

She remembered seeing the exact same face in the mirror after her mother was killed.

How dare him? How dare he compare his mother skipping town and leaving his father, to her mother being brutally raped, tortured and murdered?

Yeah, she remembered when his mother left. It was about a year before her mother's murder.

His father had been cheating on her, so she packed up her things and left him without a goodbye.

Sure, it's a horrible thing. Sure, he was torn up about it. Sure, Billy did eventually get over it. Well, fuck her for having a little more trouble coping with her mother being murdered.

She reached for the faucet, when a voice caught her attention. Two voices. Two female voices.

She heard her name.

"Why would Sidney make it all up that she was attacked?" one girl said.

"For attention, duh," the other girl said.

Sidney then heard the bathroom door opening, and the two girls voices grew louder. She quickly grabbed her purse off of the sink and ducked into the stall farthest from the door and locked it, listening intently.

"The girl has some serious issues," the second girl continued.

The two girls entered the bathroom, approaching two sinks and looking at themselves in the mirror. One was tall and slender, with a short black haircut, and the other was blond and shorter, wearing a cheerleader uniform.

The blond cheerleader gasped, as if she was having a revelation.

"What if she did it? What if Sidney killed Casey and Steve?"

The dark haired girl scoffed and laughed.

"Why would she do that?" she asked, applying more lipstick over her already heavily-coated lips.

"Maybe she had the hots for Steve and killed them both in a jealous rage," the blond girl said, smiling and primping in the mirror.

"What would Sidney want with Steve? She has her own bubble butt boyfriend Billy," the dark-haired girl said.

"Maybe she's a slut just like her mother," the blond girl said nastily.

Hearing that felt like a knife in the stomach.

Sidney felt suddenly weak and sunk back into the stall, sitting down on the toilet, feeling more tears beginning to fall. She cupped her hand to her mouth, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

The blond girl kept going.

"It was a common fact. Her mother was a tramp,"

Sidney was silently bawling, feeling like her world was crashing down around her.

"Give her some slack, she watched her mom get butchered," the dark haired girl said.

"Yeah, and it fucked her up royally. Think about it," the blond girl continued dramatically. "Her mother's death leaves her disturbed and hostile in a cruel and inhumane world. She's delusional-'Where's God', et cetera. She's completely suicidal but one day she snaps, and realizes homicide is a much healthier therapeutic expression,"

Sidney fought to contain herself, her heart pounding, her jaw quivering.

The dark-haired girl frowns.

"Where do you get this shit?"

The cheerleader smiled.

"Ricki Lake,"

The two girls giggled evilly in unison and left the bathroom, leaving Sidney to sit alone in silence, processing what they had said.

This was a mistake. She shouldn't be here.

She was going to find Dewey and get the fuck out of here.

She didn't care about going to class or anything else except to go home.

Sidney slipped out of the stall and made her way to the sink again, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She didn't even know anything about those two girls.

Yet they seemed to know everything about her.

Except what Gale and her tabloids were feeding them.

"Pathetic…" Sidney muttered under her breath, taking a deep breath and feeling her body start to relax.

She listened to the silence in the bathroom…hearing the pipes groaning and water dripping in the sink.

And then, came another sound.

A strange whispering sound.

Sidney furrowed her brow in confusion, looking around for the source of the sound.

She heard it again, and this time it sounded like a voice. A disembodied, whispering voice saying something…a name….her name. It was saying _Sidney…_

 _Sidney….Sidney….it's me Sidney…_

Every muscle in Sidney's body tightened and her heart began to pound. She spun around to face the stalls.

She scrambled down on her knees, scanning underneath every stall, and didn't see anyone.

She stood upright and listened again.

The voice continued.

" _Sidney….Sidney….."_ it rasped.

"Who's there?" Sidney asked.

She looked underneath the stalls a second time and saw something that sent a chill down her spine.

Now there were two black boots in the stall closest to the door.

Fuck no, Sidney thought.

It was him.

"It's me, Sidney," the voice said louder, and the stall door banged open, and out came the killer, fully clothed in the ghost mask and cloak, lunging for her.

Sidney had barely any time to react.

She dove to the side, slamming into the stalls as the killer went crashing into the sink, grabbing at nothing.

He went for her again, and she leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding his grasp.

Sidney bolted for the door but slipped on the wet floor, catching the sink to keep her from falling.

She saw the killer gliding across the room towards her in the mirror, his arms outstretched, growling with anger…

She flew for the door, grabbing the handle, flinging it open just as the killer grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and tore it off of her body.

She went careening out of the bathroom and down a nearby flight of stairs not even looking behind her to see if he was following.

She sailed around a corner colliding with a man who grabbed her tightly by the shoulders.

Sidney screamed hysterically, squirming in her attacker's grasp as the man struggled to control her.

"He's going to kill me!" Sidney screamed, ripping herself out of the man's grasp and tearing off down the hallway, leaving Principal Himbry stunned.

"Sidney, wait!" Himbry called after her, but it was too late. Sidney was gone.


	8. Chapter 8-School's Out

"… _In what appears to be a prank, several students have been seen wearing scary costumes, the very same costume known to be worn by the killer. Seventeen year old Casey Becker and her boyfriend have already lost their lives…who is next?"_

The campus was still abuzz with reporters talking into their cameras and interviewing students and teachers.

Gale was leaning against her news van, her mind also abuzz with thought.

She had to figure out something, some way to find proof that Cotton was innocent and that these new murders are related to Sidney's mother's murder.

But how?

The way she saw it, she'd have to get in good with the police and snag some inside information.

She also needed to get closer to Sidney…to find out who could be doing all of this and who is enemies with Sid and who would want her or her mother dead.

Sidney wasn't about to talk, and her blond bimbo friend wouldn't either.

She scanned the campus, hoping to have some sort of epiphany or some sort of sign to point her in the right direction.

And out of nowhere, a man strolled by. A young guy in his early twenties donning a police uniform.

She recognized him as Dewey Riley, a deputy that had been working on Sidney's mother's murder and was the older brother of Sidney's blond friend.

Gale lit up with excitement, a devious grin spreading across her face.

That bumbling idiot was giving her ideas.

Play him like a violin, Gale. Make him fall in love with you and he'd tell you whatever you wanted him to know about the murders and about Sidney.

It was foolproof.

Gale checked her appearance in the mirror, pushed up her breasts, and scurried after him like a wildcat after her prey, her fake face aglow.

She tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around and removed his sunglasses.

She extended her hand, which was returned with a shake.

"Hi, I'm Gale Weathers, field correspondent for Top Story,"

Dewey nodded.

"I know who you are, m'am. How is the eye?" Dewey asked, gesturing to the concealed bruise on her cheek.

"It's productive. So is there a problem on campus?"

"No," Dewey said, puffing out his chest confidently. "Everything is under control,"

Gale smiled flirtatiously.

"Well, of course. You're here," she said, batting her eyes.

Reel him in, Gale, she told herself.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Dewey said.

"I know, I should be in New York covering the Sharon Stone stalker story, but who knew?" Gale said, doing her best fake flirty laugh.

"You look awfully young to be a police officer,"

Dewey puffed out his chest again, almost offended by the remark.

"I'm 25 years old, Mrs. Weathers,"

"Well, in a demographic study I proved to be most popular among males ages 11-24. I guess I just missed you," she giggled. 'Of course, you don't look a day over 12. Except in that upper torso area," she said, extending her hand and brushing it lightly over his bicep.

Dewey felt his face growing hot, and he blushed.

"Does the force require you to work out?" she asked, leaning in to him coquettishly.

"No, m'am. Despite my boyish good looks, my muscle mass has increased my acceptance as a serious police officer," he said, his cheeks turning bright red.

Just then, they were interrupted by the school's PA system.

Mr. Himbry came over the speaker.

" _Your attention please. Due to the recent events that have occurred and until it comes to a resolve-effective immediately-all classes are suspended until further notice…"_

Several cheers from students could be heard all across campus.

" _The Woodsboro Police Department has issued a citywide curfew beginning at 9 PM. I repeat…"_

Dewey tried to head for the school, but Gale began to walk alongside him, stalking her prey…

"Looks like we have a serial killer on our hands," she said.

"Serial killer isn't accurate. You gotta knock off a couple of more to get that title,"

"We can only hope can't we?" said Gale.

Dewey stopped abruptly and turned to face her, a bit taken aback by her insensitivity.

"Well, we certainly don't have any leads. Have you located Sidney's father?"

Dewey shook his head sadly.

"He's not a suspect, is he?" Gale asked.

 _Just keep probing, Gale…get your story…_

"We haven't ruled him out," Dewey said, growing uncomfortable.

"If you'll excuse me…" Dewey's voice trailed off as he tried to leave, but Gale sidestepped him, cutting him off.

"I'm sorry, am I keeping you?" Gale asked, her voice oozing with false sincerity.

She stood slightly on her tiptoes, leaning in to him seductively.

Dewey eyed her up and down, seeing her long legs, and the way she moved when she walked…she was gorgeous, he admitted to himself.

Dewey took his hat off and smiled.

"If I may so, Mrs. Weathers, you're a lot prettier in person," Dewey said, and took off for the school.

"Please, call me Gale!" she called after him.

A cunning grin spread across her face.

She had him right where she wanted him.

* * *

"It was just some sick fuck trying to have a laugh," Tatum said as she and Sidney walked out of the side doors to Woodsboro High.

"It was him, Tatum. I know it,"

"Well, from now on, you are not to be without me. You pee, I pee. Is that clear?" Tatum said, almost in a scolding manner.

Sidney felt a bit relieved to have Tatum being protective, but still, she didn't feel safe. She couldn't be safe at home, and she couldn't be safe at school. Where could she be safe?

He would find her anywhere she went.

She hoped that it was a prank, just another kid in a mask. She hoped that Tatum was right.

Tatum and Sidney walked through a breezeway and onto a narrow sidewalk, until they reached the road where they began walking towards the front of school to meet Dewey.

Out from behind a tree, came Stu, sporting his trademark goofy expression.

He playfully lifted Tatum up over his shoulder like a burlap sack, as Tatum screamed out in response.

"Put me down, you idiot!" she cried, swatting at him.

"So, Sidney, everyone's talking about what happened," Stu said.

"Just drop it, Stu," Tatum admonished him as he set her back down on the ground.

"Well, whatever you said to Himbry, the entire student body says thanks," Stu said, kissing Tatum passionately and swathing his arm around her hip as they walked.

"And to celebrate the joy of school being out, I propose we have a party. Tonight at my house," Stu said.

Sidney frowned.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

How could he throw a party with a psychopath on the loose?

"Yeah, my parents are out of town, it will be just the few of us unless this little wench decides to invite the whole school," Stu said, nibbling on her neck.

Tatum's eyes lit up, and she turned to Sidney.

"Hey, it could be fun!" she said.

Sidney sighed, uneasy.

"I don't know…" she said.

"Come on, Sid. Remember, safety in numbers," Tatum said.

Sidney sighed again, this time in defeat. She didn't feel like arguing.

'Alright, I guess,"

"Sweet!" Stu exclaimed, pumping his fist. "See you guys tonight. Bring food,"

With that, Stu bounded off across the schoolyard, playfully tackling one of his buddies.

Tatum rolled her eyes and began to laugh, and then glanced at Sidney, seeing the trepidation written all over her face.

"Hey, this could be just what you need after all this shit. Just a little get-together with your friends," Tatum said.

Maybe she was right, Sidney thought. Besides, if she sat at home afraid to leave the house, she would be letting this sick fuck control her.

She was going to have a life whether or not this psycho was out there or not.

She wasn't going to let him win.

* * *

"Excuse me, what's that movie with E.T's mom in it?"

Randy, his dark hair neatly spiked and dressed in his Blockbuster uniform, turned to the short, blond woman tapping his shoulder.

"The Howling, horror section, straight ahead," Randy said, pointing to the back of the store.

"Thanks," she said and walked off in the direction he was pointing.

The store was more packed than Randy had ever seen in his time working there, probably because everyone was rushing to grab a video or two to watch at home under the curfew.

He rolled his cart further down the aisle, and continued restocking shelves.

When he first started working there, he thought it would be a piece of cake. He could sit in the back room and put it some old slasher flicks in the old TV and VCR set.

It turned out to be nothing but doing inventory, answering the dumbest questions and dealing with complete assholes all day.

He had tried to snag some videos to take home, and that's what got him fired about a month ago, but eventually, he persuaded the manager to rehire him.

Randy pushed the cart into another aisle, and as he picked up a stack of videos, Stu appeared from around the corner and "accidentally" knocked the videos out of his hand.

"Ooops!" Stu cried in a fake fall.

Randy groaned in annoyance.

"Dork," he said.

"Jeez, this place is packed today, man," Stu said, standing on the other side of the shelf and leaning over.

"We had a run in the mass murder section," Randy joked, shelving another stack of videos.

"You coming to my fiesta?" Stu asked.

"Yeah, I'm off early-the curfew you know,"

Randy began to move down another aisle when he saw Billy standing three aisles away, talking to two girls.

"Now that's poor taste," Randy said with a scoff.

"What?" Stu asked, confused.

Randy hushed his voice and leaned in.

"If you were the only suspect in a senseless bloodbath, would you be standing in the horror section?" Randy asked.

Stu frowned, furrowing his brow.

"It was just a misunderstanding. Billy didn't do anything,"

Randy shook his head with disapproval.

"You're such a little lap dog. He's got killer written all over his forehead," Randy said scornfully.

"Oh, really?" Stu mocked him. "Then why'd the cops let him go smart guy?"

"Because obviously they don't watch enough movies. This is standard horror movie stuff. Prom night revisited," Randy explained.

Stu raised his brows, pretending to take him seriously.

"Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend?"

Randy scoffed.

"There's always some bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. That's the beauty of it all. Simplicity," Randy went on, Stu pretending to listen. "Besides, if you complicate things, you lose your target audience,"

"Well, what's his motive?" Stu asked, gesturing to Billy.

Randy hesitated, and then said in an even more hushed tone.

"Maybe she wouldn't have sex with him,"

Stu stifled a laugh.

"What, is Sidney saving herself for you?" he teased.

"Maybe," Randy said. "Now that Billy tried to kill her, do you think I have a shot with Sid?"

Stu stared at Randy for a sec, considering it. Then he burst out laughing.

Randy rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't. Not at all," Stu said, still laughing hysterically.

Then, Stu became serious, leaning in and his eyes growing wide.

"You know, I think it's her father," Stu said. "I mean why can't they find him?"

"Because he's probably dead. His body will come popping up in the last reel somewhere. Eyes gouged out, teeth knocked out, fingers cut off…" Randy continued, his voice growing louder and more intense.

Stu grimaced and then looked around at the people starting to stare.

Randy was getting on his soap box.

"The police are always off track with this shit. If they watched Prom Night, they'd save time. There's a formula to it, a very simple formula! Everyone is a suspect!" Randy exclaimed, everyone in the store now staring at them.

Randy gave an awkward smile and wave to the customers, and grabbed his cart.

"I promise you, it's not her father. Billy is the killer," Randy said.

As Randy turned around, Billy appeared right in front him, grabbed the front of his Blockbuster shirt, and yanked him forward, until Randy and Billy were nose-to-nose.

Stu came from behind, sandwiching Randy in between the two of them.

"How do we know you're not the killer?" Billy asked threateningly.

Billy had heard everything.

"…H-Huh?" Randy stammered nervously, his heart almost pounding out of his chest.

"Maybe your movie-fucked mind lost its reality button, have you ever thought of that?" Billy asked him again, dragging Randy towards the back of the store where nobody could see, Stu following behind.

"You're probably right. I'm the first to admit it, if this were a horror movie, I'd be the prime suspect," Randy was talking a mile a minute, sweat popping out all over his forehead.

"It's your motive," Stu said from behind Randy, leaning over his shoulder.

"It's a millennium. Motives are incidental," Randy said, as Billy's hand loosened its grip on his shirt.

Randy felt his heartbeat return to normal as Billy started to laugh.

"Millennium…I like that. I'm messing with ya," Billy said, playfully patting Randy's cheek and walking off, with Stu following behind.

"Be at my party!" Stu said over his shoulder as Billy and Stu left out the front doors.

Now, Randy was even more sure of who the killer was.

It was Billy fucking Loomis.

* * *

Principal Himbry slammed his office door shut, his face beet red, staring at the two teenage boys wearing ghost masks standing in front of his desk.

"You make me sick. Your whole havoc-inducing, thieving, whoring generation disgusts me," Principal Himbry berated furiously.

He ripped the mask off one of the boys, revealing a young clean cut guy, and threw it to the floor. He ripped the mask off of the other boy, another young kid-next-door type of guy, and grabbed a pair of scissors off of his desk.

"Two of your students, savagely murdered, and another fellow student viciously attacked, and this is how you show your compassion and sensitivity? Running around in these masks and terrorizing the poor girl?" Himbry continued his tirade, simultaneously slicing the masks into shreds with the scissors.

"You both throw on masks and dance around campus until someone else gets butchered before you get bored again,"

Principal Himbry threw the mutilated mask onto the floor and flashed his scissors in the boys faces threateningly.

"Let me tell you boys something….you're both expelled. Get out," Himbry said, heading for the door and opening it.

"Oh come on, Mr. Himbry," one of the boys protested.

"It was just a joke, it's not fair!" the other cried.

Himbry became even more hostile.

He slammed the door back shut even harder.

"No, it's not fair," Himbry said, approaching one of the boys.

He flashed out the scissors again, opening the blades and snipping them shut in the boy's face as he flinched in terror, scared to breathe.

"Fairness would be to rip your insides out and leave you hanging outside from a tree so you can be exposed for the heartless, desensitized little shits that you are," Himbry snarled, a deeply rooted hostility within him.

The two students didn't dare budge.

"Now get the hell out of here," Himbry said with disgust, gesturing for the door and putting the scissors back on the desk.

The two boys gave each other a look, and hurried out the door.

Principal Himbry knew that his methods were a little extreme. Some parents had even complained to the school board about him.

But with this new generation of liars and thieves and murderers and drug addicts and appalling little bastards, it was only necessary.

If you treated teenagers like children, they would act childish. He treated them like adults and expected them to act like adults, and it worked. He knew his kids respected him.

How could they be such insensitive, cold shitheads? A girl attacked by a psychopath and they dress up as the man who attacked her and run around school like heathens and attack her in the girls bathroom.

Now, he was forced to suspend school because some students felt unsafe, and now every teacher in the building would be behind on their coursework and all because of the despicable behavior of the student body.

There was no excuse for unacceptable behavior and he was doing what God put him on this earth to do.

To fix unruly teenagers and make them fear him.

Himbry bent down to pick up the ghost mask and stared at him. He laughed, shaking his head.

He peered out of his office, to make sure his secretary had gone home, and tried on the mask in the small mirror on the wall behind his desk.

It was just a simple, rubber Halloween mask. White face, with black eyeholes, a nose and an elongated black mouth opened to look as if the face was screaming.

Just then, there was a knock on his office door.

Himbry quickly pulled off the mask and tossed it onto his desk. He moved towards the door and opened it, but nobody was outside.

There was nobody outside in the secretary's office and nobody outside in the hallway.

Strange, Himbry thought. It was probably the same two bastards trying to prank him to get revenge.

There wasn't anyone else in the school now that classes were suspended-except maybe the janitors.

Himbry stepped back into his office and closed the door shut. Just as he walked back to his desk, there was another knock.

He ran for the door and hurried outside to try to catch whoever it was in the act, and again, there was nobody.

What the hell? Himbry thought. Maybe his hearing was going bad.

You get old, and your senses start failing you.

Himbry casually strolled through the secretary's office and out into the hallway, seeing the janitor Fred down at the end of the hall, scrubbing the floors.

No one else was in sight.

It had to be his hearing.

Himbry shrugged and went back into the secretary's office.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of black from within his office through the window looking in from the secretary's office.

"Damnit," Himbry swore under his breath. They lured him outside so they could get into his and steal something or vandalize.

Himbry looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, and picked up another pair of scissors on the secretary's desk.

He ran into his office, weapon poised to strike, and stopped dead in his tracks.

His office was empty.

Nothing was disturbed

Except for his closet door, which was slightly ajar.

Himbry's heart began to beat faster and his hands grew clammy, tightening their grasp on the scissors.

He inched carefully towards the closet doors, yanked them open and held the scissors high above his head.

The closet was empty except for a row of his pinstripe suit jackets and a few file cabinets.

Himbry let out a sigh of relief and closed the closet door.

It must be the murders. They were finally getting to him and making him jumpy.

As Himbry placed the scissors on his desk and started to sit down, he realized he left his office door open.

He moved to the door and shut it, not seeing the dark figure wearing a ghost mask behind it.

In an instant, the figure spun him around and plunged a knife into Principal Himbry's belly.

Himbry let out an agonizing scream as he felt the cold steel of the knife tear into his abdomen three more times and he went down to the floor.

He stared up at the masked killer, breathing his last few breaths as his life slowly drained away and everything faded to black.


	9. Chapter 9-The Town that Dreaded Sundown

Goddamnit, Gale needed a plan.

She needed a plan desperately.

The killer has struck the past two nights in a row, and it wasn't a question that he would strike again tonight.

But where? And who was next?

She yanked open the sliding door to the newsvan and hopped out onto the sidewalk. The campus was still full of kids celebrating the day off, throwing a football back and forth, studying in the grass, and goofing off, celebrating their early spring break.

It almost made you forget about the terrifying fact that the entire reason they were out of school is because of a possible serial killer on the loose.

She hadn't seen Dewey in a while, so she had to think of something else.

Some way to find out where the killer would strike next.

Think, Gale. If she were a killer in Woodsboro, where would she go tonight to claim her next victim?

She soon realized she had no fucking idea.

Then, again, out of nowhere and seemingly by godsend, she noticed a guy stand up and shout "Party at Stu Macher's house tonight at 8! Food, beer, and chicks!" which resulted in several loud cheers and 'I'll be there's.

Gale felt a surge of ecstasy. Of course, where else to strike but a house full of drunk teenagers? She also recognized the name, Stu. Wasn't that Sidney's friend's boyfriend?

Sidney would probably be with her friend at the party.

A house full of drunk teenagers where Sidney was? There was no way the killer wouldn't be there.

Gale knew exactly how she was going to catch the son-of-a-bitch.

All she would need is a little help from Kenny, and some luck, and she might end up catching the real killer of Maureen Prescott on video for the world to see.

Gale caught up with the guy, who was heading away towards the parking lot, and tapped his shoulder.

"Excuse me; did you say there was a party tonight?"

"Yes, m'am…Aren't you that chick from Top Story?" he asked, his eyes wide with fascination.

"Why, yes," Gale said proudly. "Where is this party going to be again?"

"It's out by the edge of town. You take the highway, go by the old sawmill, and it will be on the right, you can't miss it. It's a sweet pad,"

"And, who all will be there?"

"Pretty much the whole student body," the guy said. "Wait, do you actually want to come?"

"Maybe," Gale said. "I might make a guest appearance. Try to gain some more teenage insight for my show,"

But Gale knew what she was going to do. She was going to catch a killer.

* * *

The afternoon sun was glowing bright orange, painting the tops of the trees as it was quickly disappearing behind the horizon.

Normally, the neighborhood would have been bursting with life. Dads mowing the lawn while the women were inside cooking dinner and keeping an eye on the kids playing outside in the backyard; but today, the street and yards were empty.

Everyone was behind locked doors.

Sidney and Tatum sat on Tatum's front porch; Dewey's patrol Jeep sat in the driveway.

"Tatum, do you think my mom was a slut?" Sidney asked, completely out of nowhere, her gaze transfixed into a blank focused stare.

Tatum sighed nervously.

"No, Sid. But maybe Cotton is telling the truth. Maybe they were having an affair," Tatum said hesitantly. "I mean, your dad was always on business trips. Maybe your mother was just an unhappy woman," Tatum said, trying to be as delicate as possible.

"How come Cotton couldn't prove it in court?" Sidney asked.

"Well, you can't prove a rumor. That's why it's a rumor," Tatum said.

"Yeah, started by that tabloid twit Gale Weathers," Sidney said spitefully.

Tatum knew not to say it, but she did anyway. She had to know the truth.

"It goes further back, Sid. There's been talk of other men before Cotton," Tatum explained.

There was a pause.

"And you believe it,"

Tatum shifted positions uncomfortably.

"Well…you can only hear that Richard Gere gerbil story before you have to start believing it," she said, trying to inject some humor into the brutal honesty, but to Sidney, it still felt like a kick in the stomach.

Sidney stood up and walked towards the railing, leaning against it.

"I'm sorry…" Tatum said.

It was what Sid had known all along. She had just been denying it to herself, and now that Tatum had said it out loud, she knew it was true.

"Then…if I was wrong about Cotton, then the killer is still out there," said Sidney, looking out into the neighborhood, feeling a cold chill.

Tatum stood up and joined her at the railing.

"Don't start talking shit like that, Sid. You're starting to sound like some Wes Carpenter flick or something," Tatum said laughing.

Sid forced a smile.

"Hey, we got a long night ahead of us. Dewey's taking us into town to get some snacks and some booze and then we are partying our asses off, and you're going to forget about all this murder business," Tatum said with a smile.

Sidney felt a little bit better, but she couldn't ebb the feeling in the pit of her gut that told her it was a horrible idea.

What could go wrong? She would be around a lot of people and Stu's house was out in the middle of nowhere where nobody could find her.

She would be totally safe.

Sidney didn't know how wrong she was.

* * *

It was nighttime in Woodsboro.

Typically, a Friday night was full of life in the quiet community. Groups of teenagers strolling down Main Street getting kicked out of shops for having nothing better to do, parties on every block…but not tonight.

Woodsboro looked like a ghost town.

The streets were devoid of people…of cars…of life in general. All the stores and shops were locked up tight. Shop owners were hanging up closed signs, and hurrying towards their cars to get home to beat the curfew.

The town was in fear.

Sidney hadn't seen Woodsboro this way since her mother was killed. It was the same hysteria and fear that was in the air…the heavy oppressive blanket hanging over the town.

The more she thought it about it, the more uneasy she was becoming about the party tonight.

It seemed like such a bad idea and in such bad taste to throw a party while two people they all knew had been brutally slaughtered and a psychopath was on the loose.

Dewey had tried to protest it before they left the house.

"Really, Tatum? A party with a killer on the loose? Mom's going to kill you and me both," Dewey had said.

"Don't be self-righteous. It's just a little blow-out. We will be perfectly safe," Tatum had quipped back.

Dewey honestly didn't have a choice with Tatum around. He kind of did what she told him to do.

At times, it was humorous. But other times, Sidney could see how much it bothered Dewey.

Tonight, she was clinging onto hope that Tatum was right.

Dewey pulled the patrol Jeep to the side of the road in front of a small convenience mart that sat across from the police station.

"God, look at this place, it's like the town that dreaded sundown," Sidney said, looking out the windshield at the deserted downtown district.

"Isn't that a movie about some killer in Texas?" Dewey asked.

Sidney nodded.

She had picked up a bit of knowledge from Randy over the years.

"Hey, Sid, if they make a movie about you, who do you think they will cast to play you?" Tatum joked from the backseat.

Sid scoffed.

"I see you as a young Meg Ryan," Dewey said in a brotherly tone.

Sidney smiled.

"Well, with my luck, they'd cast Tori Spelling,"

Tatum and Sidney piled out the Jeep as Dewey climbed out and began to head for the police station.

"Don't go far. I'll just be a few minutes talking to Burke," Dewey called over his shoulder.

"Ok!" Tatum called and headed inside the convenience mart, Sidney following behind.

Tatum grabbed a buggy and started pushing it down an aisle, stopping at a rack and grabbing a few bags of chips.

"Is Billy going to be there tonight?" Sidney asked curiously.

"He'd better not be," Tatum said with animosity. "I told Stu to keep his mouth shut. I think we can live without any more endorphin rushes for one night,"

A frumpy middle-aged woman reshelving jars of salsa stopped and looked at them.

"You girls better hurry up, we're under curfew," she warned.

"We won't be long. We promise," Tatum said sweetly, grabbing a jar of salsa out of the box and moving along, Sidney strolling along aside her.

"You know, maybe Billy really didn't do it. He's always climbed in my window before, maybe it was just a coincidence," Sidney said in a hushed tone.

Tatum gave her a look.

Oh, please Sid. I've always had such an icky feeling about him. He's too perfect," Tatum said.

"I'm just so unfair to him, Tatum. He said something today at school about having a girlfriend who'd rather accuse him of being a killer instead of touch him and he's right," Sidney said.

Tatum grabbed a six pack of sodas and placed them in the buggy.

"He is so dramatic. Doesn't he know what you've been through?" Tatum said.

"This was going on before all this happened, Tatum. It's like I can't relax when I'm with him," Sidney replied.

"So what? You have some intimacy issues as a result of your mother's untimely death. It's no big deal; you'll thaw out," Tatum assured.

Sidney hesitated.

"He's been so patient with me, Tatum. It's been a year. I should be getting over it,"

"So you're just expected to suddenly feel better because your boyfriend wants to fuck you? He's a total sleaze, Sidney," Tatum said, throwing in some more chips and dip.

"But how many guys would deal with a girlfriend who's sexually anorexic? I mean, maybe it's time for me to just let go and have a good time tonight," Sidney said.

"Look, I won't tell you what to do, I just don't think Billy and his penis deserve you," Tatum said.

Sidney laughed.

Tatum turned the corner down the junk food aisle and grabbed a bag of candy and another six-pack of sodas.

"What gets you in the mood for sex? What do you think about?" Sidney asked.

Tatum pondered the thought for a minute.

"Well, with Stu, there's no time to reflect beforehand," Tatum remarked, scoffing. "To relax, I think of Grant Goodeve,"

"Who?" Sid asked.

"Grant Goodeve? Oldest brother on that show, Eight is Enough? I was in love with him, he was so hot. The show came on every day after right during my puberty years," Tatum said, her eyes drifting off dreamily.

Sidney didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but just kept nodding.

"During foreplay, I just sing the theme song to myself, think of him, and it's a real turn on,"

Sidney laughed, shaking her head.

"Whatever works, I guess,"

"It works, Sid. Besides, Grant's basket is probably a whole lot bigger than the one Stu pushes," Tatum said with a mischievous grin.

"Tatum!" Sidney exclaimed, stifling a laugh.

"Oh, come on, Sidney. A guy can talk tits until he's dead but the second a woman talks about an eight inch penis, watch out," Tatum said.

The girls burst out laughing.

Neither of them noticed the ghost-masked figure who had been following them from aisle to aisle, watching them…listening…stalking his prey…

Tonight, Sidney would learn the whole truth.

Just how much of a slut her mother really was. Just how much the truth was going to hurt.

The truth would end up putting her and her friends in grave danger.

* * *

Dewey walked inside the police station, which unlike the rest of the town, was busy as hell.

Officers running back and forth, shouting across the room to each other, phones ringing off the hook; it was a madhouse.

It hadn't been this busy since Maureen Prescott was killed.

Maureen's murder was especially hard for Dewey. He had only become a police officer a few months before, and he was thrown into one of the most gruesome crime scenes in state history.

He still saw some of the crime scene photos in his dreams…in his thoughts…etched into his brain…he had been there for her autopsy and those images were burned into the walls of his mind as well.

How someone could do something like that to a human being, he had no idea.

He almost felt like his own mother had died. He already was close to Sidney through Tatum, and knew her parents well.

Her poor father almost fell straight through the cracks; he still wasn't the same man he used to be. He was always wrapped up in his work now and almost never saw anyone outside of business interactions anymore. He was the hull of a man.

Maureen's killer took her life, but also the lives of many others. It was like it took a little piece of Sidney and Neil and even himself and everyone around Sidney.

They all felt it. They all felt Sidney's and Neil's pain.

He remembered sitting in the kitchen late one night with Sidney when she couldn't sleep a few nights after the murder.

She wasn't crying. It was almost like she was out of tears to cry.

She just said "Why her?" over and over again. "Why her?"

Dewey didn't understand either.

Out of all people, kill a bright, vibrant, beautiful woman with her life ahead of her, and a daughter with her life ahead of her. Just rob everyone of such a wonderful wife and mother.

Dewey grew so close to Sidney in the next few months after the murder. He would stay up late with her, and they would talk about everything there was to talk about.

Life, death, relationships…Dewey was like the brother Sidney didn't have.

He had said "Some things just happen in life and we don't know why. I promise time will pass, and you will move on from this. You are strong, Sid. You are a survivor"

Dewey meant every word of it.

From the moment he met Sidney, he knew there was something about her…something so strong…so brave.

She was a fighter, and her dealing with her mom's death made him more certain that Sidney would move on and Sidney was just that.

A survivor.

Now, with the killer back on the loose, he was afraid that Sidney was in a whole lot of danger and this party was seeming like more and more of a bad idea.

As Dewey passed by Sheriff Burke's office, Burke called him gruffly.

Dewey entered the office, where Burke was leaning back in his chair, puffing on a cigarette.

"I thought you quit" Dewey said.

"I did…" the Sheriff sighed. "But, damn it, Dewey, We've got bad news,"

Dewey closed the door and walked towards him, hushing his voice.

"What?"

"Vital Phone just faxed us. Those phone calls are listed to Neil Prescott, Sid's father,"

Dewey's eyes widened with disbelief.

"He made those calls with his cellular phone, it's been confirmed,"

Dewey felt the color draining from his face. Had he heard him right? Sidney's father was the killer? Oh shit, how was Sidney going to take this?

"There's no way his cellular could have been cloned?" Dewey asked, still incredulous.

"There's more…guess what tomorrow is? The anniversary of his wife's death," Burke said.

Dewey felt a chill as the realization hit him.

"We'll keep up roadblocks and the curfew in effect until morning. If he's not picked up by morning, we'll start a state-wide search. Where's Sidney?" Burke asked.

"She's across the street with my sister. Do you want me to tell her?

"No, no, no," Sherriff Burke said adamantly. "Not yet. Let's find Neil first, make sure he's our man,"

Dewey nodded.

"Yes sir,"

Burke stood up and leaned across the desk.

"You keep a close eye on Sidney. Don't let her out of her sight," he said, his eyes possessing a level of seriousness that made the hairs on the back of Dewey's neck stand up.

"Yes, sir,"

With that, Dewey left the office, closing the door behind him.

Holy shit, Dewey thought. Her own father? The killer? It didn't make sense.

But then again, it did. The anniversary of Maureen's murder was tomorrow. What if the stress was too much for Neil and he snapped? Went on a killing spree as a result from being unhinged by his wife's death?

This news would devastate Sidney. He definitely had to keep his mouth shut; let Sidney have at least one night of fun before finding out her father was the suspect in a double homicide.

Dewey left the police station, trying to act like he didn't know a thing as Sidney and Tatum approached the Jeep and began unloading groceries into the back.

"Well, girls, looks like I'm coming to the party. Sheriff's orders to keep an eye on Sid," Dewey said, leaning against the Jeep.

Tatum groaned.

"Really? My older brother is going to babysit us?"

"Sorry, Tatum. While this guy is on the loose, I can't let Sid out of my sight,"

"Ugh. Fine," Tatum conceded, placed the last bag into the backseat, and climbed into the jeep.

Sidney felt a wash of relief come over her knowing Dewey was going to be at the party.

Dewey wasn't much protection, but him and his gun was better than nothing.

Besides, why would the killer risk attacking with all those people around?

Sidney climbed into the passenger seat and began to feel safer and safer as Dewey climbed into the driver's seat and drove the Jeep towards the edge of town, a tan news van discreetly following them the entire way...


	10. Chapter 10-The Game Continues

Stu's house was at the end of a long winding dirt road lined by gnarled, overhanging trees; the moonlight was casting eerie shadows on the windshield.

The entire ride to the house, Sidney felt a gnawing feeling in the pit of her soul telling her that this was a terrible idea.

Another part of her was telling her that she would be completely safe with all the people there as well as Dewey right outside to protect her.

The two parts of her were at war, screaming back and forth at each other the entire ride to the party, and it was killing her.

Just stop Sidney... Have a good time tonight... She kept telling herself. You may not know when you'll get another time to have some fun considering the next few days were going to be constantly living in fear of a psychopath.

She didn't have to let her life become one big scary movie. Should she just let this sicko control her and rob her of her teen years and strip her of the parties and the times shared with friends?

Fuck that. Sidney was ready to let go, forget about all this crazed killer bullshit, and have fun.

The trees cleared and a huge, three-story, Gothic style farmhouse loomed over them. It was in the middle of a large field, surrounded by a rickety wooden gate, not a neighbor in sight.

Despite the dead and spooky exterior of the house, the inside was full of horny, drunk, teenage life. There wasn't a light off in the house, music was blaring from inside, cars were parked all out front, and kids were everywhere.

They were hanging out the windows, scattered all around the property, laughing and having a good time.

Tatum cheered loudly and piled out of the Jeep, grabbing some groceries out of the backseat.

Sidney came from the other side as Dewey called out the open window.

"You girls have fun! Not too much fun or I'll bust ya," Dewey joked.

"You'll be sitting out here, right?" Sidney asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"You'll be perfectly safe, Sidney," Dewey assured.

"Yeah, Deputy Doofus will protect you," Tatum teased and gave Sidney a nudge.

Dewey rolled his eyes and sat back in the seat, pulling the Jeep off the road slightly and parking in the grass a little ways off from the house.

Sidney hesitantly followed Tatum up to the house. Tatum looked back.

"You'll be fine, Sid. Safety in numbers,"

She's right, Sidney thought. Just chill... You'll be totally safe.

Sidney and Tatum walked through the open front door, stepping by a group of kids who whispered quietly about Sidney.

The house was even bigger and fancier on the inside than it looked.

A huge staircase with an intricate wooden banister spiraled up to the second floor. In the center of the foyer was a large mahogany table with a potted plant sitting on top as a centerpiece to the mansion.

The ceiling was high and wooden beams stretched across it. Branching out from the foyer was a kitchen, where bowls of food, pizza, a cooler full of liquor and other assortments of snacks covered the counters and kids were all standing around, drinking and cutting up. Sidney recognized a few; some she'd never seen before.

Stu and a couple of other guys were taking turns guzzling alcohol from a funnel and seeing Tatum, they waved.

Across from the kitchen was an eloquent dining room and from there was a huge living room with a couple of sofas and a television where Randy was standing holding up different horror movies to see which one everybody wanted to watch as music blared from a high tech stereo.

"Here ya go, boys," Tatum said, placing all of the bags full of food on the counter.

Stu wrapped her in his arms and swept her off her feet as she laughed.

Seeing just how many people were there, Sidney began to relax. She was actually smiling and laughing and she felt herself slowly began to forget about everything...

* * *

The tan news van screeched to a stop and parked unobtrusively under a large tree, a short distance from the house.

Gale sat in the passenger seat, eyeing her surroundings nervously.

"Do you think we were spotted?" Kenny asked from the driver's seat.

She shushed him.

"No I don't think so," she replied.

She could see the huge farmhouse through the trees.

God, she thought. If only she'd grew up with a family as rich as that. She wouldn't have to work as hard to get where she was.

This would be the perfect spot to catch a killer. Spooky, isolated... Gale felt like a story was about to come and she would finally get the break she rightfully deserved. She could feel it in her gut.

All journalists had it. It was the excited knot twisting in your stomach that just told you that this was your chance.

"Ok, Kenny. Let's hop in the back,"

Gale and Kenny clambered into the backseat and turned to face a small, hokey control panel fixed with a computer monitor.

The screen was synced up with a video camera that Gale would prop up somewhere in the house to record tonight's festivities.

"Is it ready?" She asked, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

"Yep. Control board is glitched though. It won't be a live recording," Kenny said, adjusting the wiring.

"Shit," Gale frowned. "How long is the delay?"

"About thirty seconds," Kenny said.

"As long as it records, that's fine," Gale said, checking out the window again.

Kenny handed her a small, handheld video camera and she concealed it in her jacket. Gale stepped out of the news van, slid the sliding door closed, checked her appearance in the rear view mirror, and started down the road towards the house.

Gale began to envision the headlines.

"Local reporter catches killer... Local reporter saves wrongfully convicted man... The thought of it made her tingle with ecstasy.

She could go national... Top Story was amateur hour compared to some of the other huge media conglomerates she could get signed on to.

Her future was endless...

She could see it all in front of her. This killer, whoever he or she was, paving her way to fame and fortune.

Who could it be? Was it Neil Prescott? Unhinged by the anniversary of his wife's murder? Or Billy Loomis, Sidney's boyfriend? Or Sidney herself? Or just some random psychopath on a killing spree to finish what he started when he killed Maureen?

But why kill the others if the target was Sidney? Maybe the target wasn't Sidney?

It was too much of a coincidence that the murders started one year after Maureen's death. And Gale knew from her years in journalism that coincidences that inexplicable didn't happen. They just had to be connected.

Just then, Gale's thoughts were broken as her eyes adjusted to the dark... And she saw a shadowy figure standing in the middle of the road.

"Hello? Who is that?" Gale asked. No reply.

The figure began to rapidly approach her and Gale felt her heart began to beat faster.

She had no time to react or scream. He was right in front of her and suddenly, she was blinded by a flash of light.

Gale flinched, letting out a scream.

"Stop right there!" A voice called, and she heard a gun click.

"Don't shoot!" Gale cried, putting her hands up in protest.

She saw who it was. It was Dewey, aiming a flashlight and his gun at her.

"Oh sorry... Didn't mean to scare you," Dewey said, lowering his weapon.

"Jesus Christ," Gale muttered, feeling her heartbeat return to normal.

"I thought you might have been the killer," Dewey said.

"I thought the same thing about you," Gale replied with a chuckle.

"So what brings you out here?" Dewey asked.

Maybe Gale could still have fun with him. After all, she still needed some information about the killer and Dewey could tell her anything she wanted to know.

Gale smiled flirtatiously.

"You never know where a story's going to break," she said, leaning in to him.

"Not much of a story out here. Just a bunch of kids cutting it loose," he said.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"Keeping an eye on things... You know, in case the killer shows up. I'm about to head into the party,"

This was her chance. What better way for a cover to get into the party then by police escort?

"Mind if I join you?" She asked, batting her eyes at him.

Dewey blushed.

"Sure," he said.

Gale grabbed onto his arm, and the two walked down the long country road towards the farmhouse.

* * *

The party was going strong into the night.

A couple of kids had gone upstairs to the bedrooms to make out and explore the house, some were out in the field cutting up, and most were inside sitting on the couch deciding a movie to watch and chowing down on pizza and beer.

Sidney, Tatum, Stu were sitting at the kitchen table playing strip poker with a bunch of other kids from school.

Sidney couldn't believe she was actually having a good time. She was actually genuinely laughing at Stu and Tatum's antics and having a blast.

It was the first time in days she actually felt safe…relaxed and happy, and it was such a release.

After two or three rounds, they all went into the living room to watch the movie, which Randy was still trying to choose.

"I thought every horror movie was checked out," Stu said.

"I had these hidden away," Randy replied.

"Who wants PROM NIGHT?" Randy called over the crowd of kids scattered around in the living room.

There were a few boos and a few cheers all over the room.

Randy placed it on the coffee table, and held another video up in the air.

"What about TERROR TRAIN?"

Some louder, drunken cheers erupted.

Sidney was curled up on the couch and Tatum was on the adjacent sofa, Stu's arm draped around her. She casually picked up the movies and perused the back cover.

"How come Jamie Lee Curtis is in all these movies?" Sidney asked.

Randy put his hands together as if were praying to an idol.

"She's the Scream Queen," he said.

Stu grinned mischievously.

"With that set of lungs, she should be," Stu said, lustfully gazing at Tatum's chest.

Tatum rolled her eyes and turned to Sid.

"See, they're just all about tits," Tatum said, as Stu kissed her neck.

"What about HALLOWEEN?" Randy exclaimed, holding up the tape.

The loudest cheer of all erupted.

"Well, I think that's a winner," Randy said, and popped the tape into the VCR.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Stu leapt over the back of the couch to answer it.

He opened the door to see Dewey and Gale standing on the porch.

"Holy shit, guys!" Stu said excitedly, running back into the living room. "That chick from Top Story is here, Gale Weathers!"

Several of the kids gasped in astonishment as Gale walked into the room, her flashy newscaster smile lighting up the room.

Sidney felt a white-hot rage swelling inside her and she gave her a death stare.

Tatum frowned, turning to give a similar stare at Dewey.

She saw Sidney stand up and retreat into the kitchen.

Gale was being swarmed by the kids, asking for autographs and drunkily hammering her with questions.

"I watch your show religiously!" one girl exclaimed.

Tatum rose from the couch and angrily yanked Dewey to the side by his elbow.

"Dewey, what the hell is she doing here?"

"She's with me," Dewey said, grinning like a little schoolboy. "I'm just checking on things,"

Dewey snatched a beer out of a guy's hand.

"Hey, are you underage?" Dewey asked, his eyes pointing daggers at him.

The kid froze in fear and then Dewey's straight cop face broke and he laughed.

"I'm just kidding, have fun tonight. No driving!" Dewey said, handing him the beer back.

"Well, hurry and get your girlfriend out of here," Tatum said in disgust and walking towards the kitchen to find Sidney.

The drunken group of teens was still fascinated by Gale.

"Do you want us to do an interview?" Stu asked.

"Nope, I'm just dropping in to say Hi tonight," Gale said, discreetly scanning the room for a spot to put the camera still hidden in her coat pocket.

"We can totally pretend to be grief-stricken students," one guy joked.

"I can cry on cue," Randy said, his eyes starting to well with fake tears.

The group roared with laughter.

Gale wasn't paying attention. Her eyes made a beeline for the bookshelf under the TV. It would get perfect view of the party.

"Well, you know what, I'll get a few words with one of you," she said.

Gale moved to the front of the room and stood in front of the TV.

"Any volunteers?"

One girl excitedly raised her hand, and bounded up towards Gale.

"How do you feel about these killings?" Gale asked, pretending to hold a microphone in her face.

With the other hand behind her back, Gale covertly slid the video camera into the bookshelf, and clicked it on.

Gale hadn't even heard what she said.

Dewey walked into the kitchen where Sidney was leaning against the counter, talking to Tatum.

"Hey, Sid. Sorry about her, but she's just keeping an eye on the party too,"

"No, it's okay," Sidney said. "Have they found my dad?"

Dewey thought of what Burke had told him, and tried to act like he knew nothing.

"Not yet," he said.

Sidney sighed with worry.

"We'll find him Sidney," Dewey said, and then Gale came into the kitchen, grabbing Dewey's arm.

"Ready to go?" she said, conspicuously avoiding Sidney's hateful glare.

The awkward silence pierced the room as Gale and Dewey walked out the back door together, leaving Sidney to give Tatum a look.

"I don't know what the hell she's doing here, I promise,"

"She's probably here to try to keep ruining my life," Sidney said spitefully, grabbing a potato chip.

"Just forget about that media muff," Tatum said, putting a comforting hand on Sid's shoulder.

Sidney couldn't help but feel that Gale was up to no good.

"Hey, Tate, beer's running low. Can you go out to the garage and get some from the freezer?" Stu called from the living room.

Tatum frowned.

"What am I, the beer wench?" Tatum said dryly.

Sidney laughed.

"There's that sense of humor. Now go have fun," Tatum said as she headed for the garage.

Sidney would try to do just that, but she still had that gnawing, irritating ache in the pit of her gut that wouldn't stop telling her that something terrible was going to happen.

* * *

Gale and Dewey strolled peacefully around the side of the house, looking up at the starlit sky.

"It's a pretty night," Dewey said, shining his flashlight up at the stars.

"It sure is," Gale said, pretending to be interested. But her mind was racing with other thoughts.

Dewey was thinking some thoughts of his own.

He was dumbfounded that his gorgeous woman was actually interested in him. A celebrity, for Christ sake.

Nobody had ever taken him seriously before. Not the other police on the force, not Sheriff Burke, not his sister, even his mother doubted him sometimes with his clumsiness and propensity to mess things up.

Last year, it hit him hard when he let a suspect get away in a very important robbery case, and Sheriff Burke had yelled in his face, telling him to pull his shit together.

From then on, he had hated himself. His whole life he had wanted to be a police officer. Was he just not cut out for it? What was he cut out for? He wasn't good for anything except maybe a mall cop in some beach town, or maybe a security guard for a big office somewhere.

And now, this gorgeous girl was actually paying him attention and fawning all over him. He couldn't believe it. It was almost too good to be true.

All of a sudden, as they reached the dirt road, Dewey's radio buzzed. He picked it up and spoke into it.

"This is Deputy Riley, out at 361 Turner Lane, over,"

"Yeah, Dewey, we got a call about ten minutes ago that said there was an abandoned car out by the sawmill. Said it looked about the same color as Sidney's dad's car," the radio said.

Gale lit up with excitement, her ears perking up like a dog.

"Yes sir, copy,"

"Looks like we got a lead," he said. "Would you like to come with?"

What kind of stupid question was that?

"I'd love to," she said, her interest piqued. "If you're sure that it's alright,"

"M'am, I'm the deputy of this town," Dewey said, puffing out his chest again and standing on his heels.

Gale rolled her eyes in her mind, but on the outside she kept the same flirty fake smile.

She started to head for the Jeep, but he stopped her.

"I thought we could just walk, it's not far," Dewey said.

Gale smiled again, but she began to feel a pit in her stomach.

Great, was he trying to get her alone? Maybe to try to pull a move on her? Oh brother, she thought. Another thought was in the back of her mind.

What if he was trying to get her alone to dispatch her like the others?

Oh, stop it, Gale. This dork couldn't be the killer, what are you saying?

Besides, she had to see this. Sidney's dad's car parked out by the sawmill? No fucking way.

"Alright, let's go, but I have to stop by the van on the way," Gale said, and arm in arm; they started walking down the winding country road.

* * *

Tatum sauntered down the darkened path towards the garage, which was in a separate building a short distance from the house.

Dewey was such an idiot bringing Gale here. Did he want to see Sidney get in another catfight? That was the last thing Sidney needed.

Dewey had always been so insufferable; sure, maybe she gave him a hard time, but the people that thought that didn't have to live with the guy. He could drive her crazy, but at the end of the day, he was her brother and she knew she needed to treat him with more respect.

Even if he did try to justify his dumb actions with the badge in his wallet and the gun on his belt.

Tatum really tried to feel sorry for Sidney; truth was that Tatum wasn't the most sympathetic person. What could she say to someone whose mother was just brutally murdered?

The best thing she could do was try to lighten up Sidney with some of her humor or just let Sidney talk and Tatum would do her best to listen.

After the murders, Tatum was pretty much Sidney's live-in therapist and she sucked at it.

Now, that all of the murders were starting up again, Tatum didn't know what to do. Tell her it was all going to be okay? With a fucking psychopath on the loose?

She just simply didn't have words to say.

Tatum knew one thing. If that sicko tried to even touch Sidney, she would go apeshit crazy on that asshole.

She had been kicking herself ever since last night when Sidney was attacked.

If Tatum would have been there a few minutes before, she could have had that bastard on the floor in tears.

Tatum pushed open the door to the garage, and her nose scrunched up in disgust. It smelled old and musty, and was cluttered and cramped.

The garage was scattered with cardboard boxes, old work-out equipment, furniture, a row of bikes, and some lawn equipment.

Tatum hit the light switch, and the dim overhead light flickered on.

Tatum crossed the garage towards the refrigerator letting the door close behind her. She pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed a few bottles of beer, cradling them in her arms, humming softly to herself.

As she closed the refrigerator door, a loud crash came from behind her and she spun around, screaming.

It was just a stack of garden tools-a rake, hoe…they all had fallen onto the concrete floor.

Tatum sighed with relief sheepishly.

"Calm down…its ok, Tatum," she said to herself, chuckling.

Guess the murders were getting to her too, she thought. Tatum went back to the door, tried the knob, and frowned when she discovered it was locked.

"Oh shit," she muttered.

Tatum wriggled the doorknob again. It wouldn't budge.

Just great, she thought.

It was probably Randy and Stu on the other side of the door blocking her in.

"Hey shitheads! Let me out!" Tatum cried, banging on the door.

No answer. The door still wouldn't open.

"Great joke, guys" she said through the door, and hit the garage door button. "You know there's an automatic door right?"

The automatic garage door started to rise, a mechanical hum emanating from the equipment at the top.

As she started for the opening door, still holding the beers, it suddenly started to close again and it slowly lowered to the ground.

What the hell? Tatum thought and turned around to face the door, jumping back at the dark figure standing there, his hand on the button.

He was wearing the white ghost mask.

Tatum scrunched up her face in confusion.

"Is that you, Randy?" she asked.

The masked figure stood still, staring at her blankly.

"Real cute, Randy. You'd better lose that costume, Sidney will flip," Tatum said, walking up to the figure.

Tatum reached for the door with her free hand, but the figure stepped to the side blocking her.

Tatum sighed, annoyed.

"Randy, cut out the horror movie shit. What movie is this? I Spit on your Garage?" Tatum joked.

The figure continued to stare blankly.

"Do you want to play psycho killer?"

The masked figure nodded.

"Can I be the helpless victim?" Tatum teased, mock-afraid.

The figure nodded again.

She rolled her eyes, laughing. She pretended to get into character.

"No Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me. I want to be in the sequel," she said in a fake high-pitched voice.

Tatum laughed again, and moved for the door, but he blocked her again.

"Cut it, Casper, that's a wrap," Tatum said firmly.

As she reached for the button, the masked man grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him. The beers fell on the floor and shattered.

"What the fuck, Randy?" Tatum cried out, struggling to free herself from the ghost's grasp.

Then, there was a flash of silver and with his other hand, the ghost pulled out a razor sharp bowie knife.

Tatum's eyes widened with fear.

"Randy, stop!" she screamed again, fighting, kicking…

Her eyes watched in horror as the blade of the knife slid across her arm, and a thin line of blood formed.

Tatum yelped with pain and reeled backwards away from the ghost-masked figure, clutching the gash in her forearm.

Tatum quickly processed the terrifying realization that it was the killer in front her, and staggered backwards into a lawn chair.

He came towards her, the knife raised in the air and Tatum jumped to her feet and dove to the side, grabbing the freezer door and flinging it open.

The door bashed him in the face and the killer went flying backwards.

"You fucker!" Tatum screamed, blood dripping from her arm onto the floor.

She bolted across the garage towards the door, jiggling the doorknob as hard she could, and it still wouldn't budge.

She spun around to see the killer lunging at her again with the knife soaring towards her heart, and she saw the shattered beer bottles on the floor.

There were a few that were intact. In a panic, Tatum snatched up one of the bottles and hurled it at him.

It smashed against his mask, sending beer flying and the killer growled with anger.

She threw another one, and it shattered against his chest and he staggered backwards again.

Tatum reached down to see that there were no more bottles, and when she looked up, the killer was lunging at her again.

Tatum screamed in horror and ducked down. He went soaring over crashing onto the steps, and Tatum scanned the room for any kind of escape while he was down.

The only way out was the automatic garage door and she didn't have any time to hit the button. The killer was hurriedly standing to his feet.

Panicking, Tatum noticed the pet door in the garage door. It was tiny, but it was her only shot.

Tatum scrambled for the pet flap, and started crawling through it.

She squeezed her head and shoulders through, and her heart sank as she realized she was stuck.

She tried to force herself forward and backwards and she couldn't budge.

Her shoulders were too wide to fit through.

And then she heard a mechanical hum.

Tatum felt a surge of terror and panic course through her body as the automatic door began to rise.

She screamed in terror, hoping someone could hear her cries, but there was no way anyone could hear her over the blaring music inside.

Tatum's neck and shoulders were getting closer to the top of the garage door as it rose higher and higher, her legs kicking frantically, shrieking…pleading for help….

Her screams were cut short when her neck hit the top beam, snapping it instantly. The door began to malfunction, sparks flying, and the door shaking erratically.

Tatum's body stopped shaking and her legs began to dangle lifelessly.

The killer took his hand off the button and left the darkened garage.


	11. Chapter 11-Learning the Rules

Kenny popped another cheese puff into his mouth and banged the side of the monitor.

The picture still wouldn't show up.

Damnit, Kenny thought to himself. If Gale showed back up and it wasn't working, she'd kill him. Hell, she'd do worse than that.

He'd only started working for Gale six months ago after she fired the last guy, and boy, was she a cold-hearted bitch. Constantly nagging him about his weight and eating habits, which would make him even more stressed and caused him to eat even more junk food, which would make Gale even angrier.

He had considering quitting a week ago, and this story broke out; Gale was adamant that he stay to help her. She actually was kind to him, begging him to help her and she even offered to pay him a bit of a bigger cut.

Not much more than his already shitty pay, of course.

Over the months, Kenny had come to realize that Gale wasn't as evil as he had thought she was first meeting her. She did have a soft spot underneath that make-up and flashy, bitch exterior. Deep underneath all that bubbling rage that terrified the hell out of him.

Finally, Kenny wiggled the right wire and the TV came to life, showing the interior of the house in pristine quality.

"Thank God," Kenny muttered, sitting back to watch.

It looked like your average party. They were all draped around the living room, some on the floor, some on the sofas, all appearing to be staring right at the camera.

Must be watching a movie, he thought. Gale must have put the camera under the TV.

Suddenly, the sliding van door opened and Gale hopped in, startling Kenny.

She slid it shut and stared at the monitor.

"It's working!" she exclaimed exuberantly.

"Yep. Good placement and picture," Kenny said, adjusting a few more wires.

Even with the thirty second delay, Kenny could keep an eye on the screen and call her on her cell if anything important happened while Gale snooped around.

Gale grabbed Kenny by the arm, her eyes looking off dreamily into the distance, envisioning it.

"Kenny…has a cheesy tabloid journalist ever won the Pulitzer?" she asked.

"First time for everything," Kenny said.

"You're damn right," Gale said and bounded out of the van, sliding it shut.

She turned to face Dewey, who had been standing outside waiting.

"You ready to go look for that car?" Gale asked.

"Yep," he said, and they began to walk down the deserted country road, a shadowy figure watching from the trees…

* * *

The movie was about halfway through, and kids were starting to get restless. Randy was just spitting out random movie trivia the whole time, and everyone was meandering around, some were leaving, and going outside or upstairs to make out.

Sidney stood up from the couch. Where the hell was Tatum? Hadn't she gone off to get more beer?

Stu was over on the adjacent couch; surrounded by drunk girls as they were dying laughing at his corny jokes.

But Tatum was nowhere in sight.

Sidney walked into the foyer and glanced around.

"Tatum!" Sidney called. No answer. She wasn't in the kitchen either.

Maybe she was in the bathroom or something.

Sidney turned around to face the front door, and saw Stu standing at the door saying bye to some friends as they left.

And coming up the walkway and into the house was Billy.

Sidney froze as he walked into the foyer, staring right at her.

It was the most agonizing and awkward silence she had ever felt.

Stu and Randy stood in the doorway, also feeling the awkwardness between them.

"What is Leatherface doing here?" Randy whispered to Stu.

"Awww, he came to make up," Stu said.

"There goes my chance with Sidney…" Randy said glumly.

Stu stifled a snicker.

"As if, man…as if," he said laughing, as Randy sulked back into the living room.

Sidney and Billy were still staring each other down, not really knowing what to say.

Finally, Sidney spoke up.

"Uh…if Tatum sees you here, she'll draw blood," Sidney said nervously.

"I just really need to talk to you," Billy said, his eyes boring into hers, pleading her to trust him…

Stu came over Billy's left shoulder with a grin.

"You guys can go up to my parents room….and talk…or whatever…" Stu said with a devilish grin.

Billy thumbed his forehead.

"It's called subtlety, Stu. You should look it up,"

"No, we do need to talk," Sidney said and took by the hand, leading him up the staircase, as he playfully punched Stu on the way up.

Sidney and Billy walked silently down the hallway, the uncomfortable and awkward feeling both driving them mad and rendering them quiet.

They navigated the maze of hallways, turning a few corners until they came to the last bedroom on the left and went inside.

It was a huge bedroom, as ornate as the rest of the house, with a huge, queen-sized bed adorned with red satin sheets, a towering oak wardrobe, and two glass doors that led out onto a sprawling balcony.

Sidney and Billy both sat down on the edge of the bed, and sat in silence for a moment, both pondering the right words to say…

"I-I just wanted to say…I'm sorry for being so selfish…" Billy stammered apprehensively.

Sidney shook her head, touching his hand.

"No, no…I'm the one who's being selfish and self-absorbed…caught up in my post traumatic stress…" Sidney said apologetically.

"You did lose your mom…" Billy said, toying with his watch.

"You're right but enough is enough," Sidney said, her eyes boring into his soul. "I can't wallow in the grief process forever; I have to get on with my life. I can't keep lying to myself about who my mother was," Sidney said.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, finally saying the agonizing truth out loud. Billy nodded knowingly.

"I'm really scared, Billy…that I'm going to turn out just like her. It was so weird to me how she always pressured me not to give my virginity away, and it was really because she didn't want me to be just like her…" Sidney continued as Billy listened intently.

"Like the bad seed or something…I know it doesn't make much sense," Sidney said.

Billy smiled, and stroked her hair.

"It makes perfect sense. Like Jodie Foster in the Silence of the Lambs," Billy said.

"This isn't a movie though, Billy. This is real life,"

"Sure it is, Sid. It's all one big movie," Billy said. "You just can't pick your genre,"

Sidney stared another second into his brown eyes, and fell into his arms crying. He embraced her tenderly.

For the first time, she felt safe and secure in his arms…the sweet smell of his cologne…his dark, brown hair…his muscles holding her….she felt like she was going to be ok.

She felt something else too. An urge she hadn't felt in a long time.

She pulled away and looked at him, her eyes now lustful...Sexually charged.

"Why can't I be a Meg Ryan movie…or even a good porno," Sidney said.

Billy's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Are you serious?"

"You heard me," Sidney said confidently. "I want to let go,"

"Shhh…" Billy said, caressing her face…his hands beginning to wander… "Everything is going to be okay,"

And before she knew it, they were lip-locked passionately, under the sheets, feeling each other, exploring each other, their passion filling the room.

It felt like every one of Sidney's worries was gone. No more killer, no more murders, it was just her and Billy upstairs in that bedroom forever and nobody could change it.

Nobody.

* * *

"Here he comes, here he comes!" Randy exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the TV screen and sitting up on the couch.

The teens watched in anticipation as onscreen, Michael Myers lunged out of a closet grabbing a man by his throat and slammed him against the wall.

They all cheered and screamed in horror, a couple of girls covering their eyes and a few guys whooping and pumping their fists.

Michael pulled out a knife and plunged it into the man's chest and the teens screamed again.

"Aw, the blood is too red!" one guy yelled

"How do you watch this shit over and over Randy?" one girl cried, clutching onto her boyfriend in fear.

Randy shushed them frantically.

Stu began to protest.

"When do we see Jamie Lee's breasts!" he cried vehemently.

"Nah, Jamie didn't show her breasts until TRADING PLACES in 83'. She was always the virgin in horror movies; she didn't show her tits until she went legits," Randy explained like a college professor.

"Couldn't afford a decent pair," one girl scoffed.

Randy ignored the remark and continued as the group pretended to be interested.

"That's how she always outsmarted the killer in the big chase scenes at the end. Only virgins can do that, don't you know the rules?" Randy asked the drunken teens.

"What rules?" Stu asked.

Randy looked insulted.

"Jesus Christ, you don't know the rules of horror movies?" Randy asked the teenagers.

They all shook their heads, still pretending to care or at least too drunk to care.

Randy scoffed in disbelief and paused the movie, standing at the front of the room like he was giving a lecture, resulting in several groans.

"There are several rules one must abide by in order to survive a horror movie," Randy explained. "Rule #1: You can never have sex,"

The crowd of teenagers booed and started to throw handfuls of popcorn and paper wads at him.

"Well I'm dead for sure," Stu joked, resulting in a roar of laughter.

"Big no-no in horror. Rule #2: You can never drink or do drugs," Randy continued.

Even more boos and throwing popcorn as Randy swatted away the flying projectiles.

"Big no-no! It's an extension of number one. And thirdly, you can never under any circumstances say 'I'll be right back'. Because you won't be back,"

Stu stood up and bounded towards the swinging door leading into the kitchen.

"Hey, I'm getting another beer, you want one?" he asked Randy.

"Yeah, sure," Randy replied, still standing up on his soap box.

"I'll be right back," Stu said loudly and exaggerated resulting in laughter and loud, raucous cheers.

Randy sighed in disapproval, shaking his head.

"Yep, dead man walking right here. You push the laws and you end up dead. I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife,"

* * *

Upstairs, Sidney was breaking Randy's first rule and she didn't care.

Sidney tore off her jacket and climbed on top of Billy with a lust that she didn't even see coming. Her lips made their way down his stomach to the button on his jeans.

Billy rolled over on top of her, his hand finding its way up her shirt and unhooking her bra strap, fondling her breast.

Sidney could hear her mother's voice and when she did, she shut it out, ignoring it. She remembered what Tatum had said about just relaxing and remembering the truth about who her mother really was, and she felt her body slowly caving in to Billy's.

His hips pressed against hers, and waves of pleasure coursed through her pelvis and all the way down to the soles of her feet.

He unbuttoned his jeans as Sidney took off her bra, and soon they were naked, moving up and down underneath the sheets as Sidney felt Billy inside of her, becoming one with him, everything melting inside of her.

Their moans of passion were drowned out by the noises of the party downstairs.

She didn't know that it could not only feel this intensely amazing, but just how safe she felt underneath him, like the rest of the world didn't matter. That sick bastard couldn't get to her.

He wasn't stopping her from living her life or fucking her boyfriend, and it felt amazing.

She ran her hands through his dark hair, dug her nails into his shoulder, tugged at the sheets, the hormones rushing through her veins…it was the first time she felt this good since before her mother died.

Sidney never wanted it to end…she just wanted to stay underneath him forever.

* * *

As the girl on the TV lowered the sheets to reveal her breasts, the guys watched with wide eyes and leaned forward while the girls rolled their eyes.

"Ah, the obligatory tit shot," Randy said, reveling in its glory.

"Beautiful…" one guy commented, resulting in his girlfriend slapping his shoulder and giving him a dirty stare.

"Tits are always a no-no in horror movies. Show your boobs and you die," Randy explained while the other kids tried not to groan in annoyance.

"Why is it that the goody-two shoes lives?" one girl questioned.

Randy started to turn around and explain when the phone on the side table rang.

The kids exchanged looks.

"Should I answer it?" Randy asked.

"No, it could be Stu's parents," one girl said, worried.

Stu had left to find Tatum.

"Here, I'll talk to them. I can do a great Stu impression" Randy said and picked up the ringing telephone.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver, in his best goofy voice.

A few moments went by, and his face drained of color.

"Holy shit…" Randy muttered and dropped the phone.

The kids looked on, horrified.

"What?" one guy asked.

"They found Principal Himbry dead…he was gutted and hung from the goalpost on the football field," Randy said, his own words sending a chill down his spine.

The kids stared at Randy in disbelief for a split second, and then they started to cheer.

"Are you serious? Let's go see it before they pry him down!" one really drunk guy yelled and pumped his fist.

Everyone cheered in reply, and what happened next was chaotic.

All of the kids scrambled towards the door, beer bottles in hand, and scattered for their cars, chatting excitedly.

Randy stood in the living room still in shock.

"Wait guys! It was just getting to the good part," he said, feeling the booze hit him as well.

He flopped down on the couch wearily, listening to the sound of tires screeching across gravel and loud shouts of joy.

And then, Randy was alone and the house was quiet.

* * *

The walk had been quiet; the sounds of nighttime were filling in all of the awkward silence and the tension.

It was a sort of eerie quiet. All of the murders created a sort of hush over the town.

There weren't any cars, or cheers from the nearby high school football field.

Just crickets chirping in the grass and owls hooting in the nearby trees.

Dewey's flashlight and the moon were the only sources of light on the narrow country road.

The surrounding woods were dark and foreboding, and Gale had to look at Dewey's gun to keep reminding herself she was safe, even though she was concerned with his clumsiness and inexperience.

She would catch him looking over at her with admiration every so often, and she had to stifle a chuckle every now and then.

Despite his bumbling attitude, she was actually starting to find him endearing.

His awkward mannerisms, nervous laughs, and how he stared at the ground when he didn't know what to say was sort of cute in a way.

He was like a nervous 14-year old boy talking to his crush for the first time, and it was charming.

"So, is Dewey your real name?" Gale asked, trying to break the silence and trying to satisfy her curiosity.

"No, it's Dwight," Dewey said.

Gale tried to mask a giggle.

"Sorry," she said.

"No, it's alright. Dewey was just a nickname that got stuck with me at police academy. Just another way of this town not taking me seriously," he explained.

Gale turned to him.

"What do you mean?" she asked sincerely.

"I've just never been taken seriously. Not by the other cops, Sheriff Burke, hell even my sister and mother don't always think that I even know what I'm doing half the time," Dewey said sadly, randomly swinging his flashlight around.

"Oh…I'm sorry," Gale said. "Well I like Dewey…it's cute,"

Dewey blushed.

"Really?" he asked.

Gale nodded.

"I know how you feel. People treat me like I'm the anti-Christ of television journalism," she said. "And Gale Weathers? I sound like a meteorologist,"

"Nah," Dewey said. "I think you're pretty great,"

Even Gale had started to blush.

"You really think so?" she asked.

"Yeah…and you know how you said I missed the age demographics? Well I was 24 for a whole year," Dewey said.

Gale smiled, looking at him with big eyes.

"So, do you watch the show?"

Dewey nodded.

"I think you're great,"

"Even with all of Sidney's mom's controversy?" Gale asked.

"Yeah… I think you're right about Cotton not being the killer,"

"So…who do you think is the killer?" Gale asked.

"I don't know. Right now the best suspect we have is Neil Prescott. We traced the calls to his cellular phone," Dewey said.

Gale's jaw dropped. Dewey knew he shouldn't have said it, but it just came out.

"So I guess he is the killer," Gale said, bewildered.

"Well, we aren't for sure," Dewey replied.

As Gale started to respond, a bright light came from behind them. They wheeled around to see cars racing down the country road towards both of them, tires skidding across asphalt, and drunken teenagers hanging out the windows.

"Oh shit, they're coming pretty fast," Dewey said, his heart beginning to race.

"SLOW DOWN!" Dewey screamed in a booming voice, pointing his gun at the cars.

But the cars weren't slowing down and they were speeding right for them.

Gale screamed as Dewey snatched her by the hand and yanked her out of the way of the incoming cars and they both leapt off off the road.

They both rolled down the grassy shoulder of the road, down an embankment, and into a pile of leaves right on top of one another.

The six or so cars all flew by them, not even realizing they'd almost been splattered all over the road, the drunken hollers and the taillights slowly dissipating into the darkness.

Gale and Dewey both laid there for a moment, catching their breath and processing what had just happened, and caught each other's eyes.

And Gale didn't know why she did what she did next.

She kissed Dewey on a sudden impulse, a tight and passionate kiss.

Upon pulling away, Gale pulled herself off of him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," she proclaimed.

Dewey responded by kissing her back, an even longer and more passionate lip lock ensuing.

Was this really happening? Gale asked herself. She couldn't help it; she was smitten by this guy. He was a total idiot.

Her mind was telling her that, but her heart was telling her a whole different story.

What was it about him? His boyish charm? His ditzy attitude? His dark slicked back hair and muscles?

At first, she couldn't even see herself actually having feelings for him, but now after she had gotten to see who he really was, it felt right somehow.

Now he had just saved her life.

Dewey pulled away and they gazed into each other's eyes for a second, and jumped to their feet.

If it had been awkward before, it was definitely awkward now.

"I'm…um…I'm sorry..." Dewey stammered, regaining his composure.

"No, it's okay…I…I mean, you did save my life. I guess I was just thanking you," Gale said nervously.

Yeah, good excuse, she told herself. He seemed to buy it. Now if she could only get rid of the pounding heart and clammy hands and the knot in her gut when she looked at him.

Maybe if they both just forgot it ever happened.

They both turned to walk back up to the road, when a glint of metal caught Dewey's eye and he shined his flashlight over towards a nearby patch of brush.

There was a blue sedan parked inconspicuously in the bushes.

"That's it! That's the car!" Dewey cried excitedly, and ran towards it, Gale following him.

"Is that Neil Prescott's car?"

Dewey checked the license plate.

"Oh shit…yes this is his car," Dewey said, his eyes growing wide with fear.

"Oh God…he's the killer! What's he doing out here?" Gale said fearfully.

They exchanged looks, and Dewey's face drained of color.

Neil Prescott was here to finish the job.

"We got to get back and find Sidney," he said, horrified.

The two raced back up the hill to the road, and started sprinting back towards the farmhouse.

* * *

Sidney sat at the vanity table, slowly combing her hair back straight again, while Billy sat on the edge of the bed, dressing himself.

Sidney didn't really know what to say. She had no idea after sex would be more awkward than before.

She also didn't know why virginity was made out to be such a big deal, because she didn't really feel any different.

How could she have been blind to who her mother really was? She had just been scared to see the truth, that her mother led a life of scandal without her knowing. But what a crazy story that was. How could she not have known about this secret life and all the affairs? And why did her mother constantly preach to her about chastity?

It had to be that her mother just didn't want her daughter to turn out like her. Could her mother really have had this secret world? Of scandal? Sex? Lies? she didn't want to believe it. Part of her knew it was the truth, and part of her still held on to the possibility that it was a lie started by Gale Weathers.

Her thoughts shifted to Billy as she turned to look at him, seeing his muscles flexing in his white T-shirt. How could she have ever thought Billy was the killer? Why would he want to kill her? Or her mother? Or Casey and Steve?

He was in jail when the killer called, there was absolutely no way he could have done it.

Then she remembered what Tatum said about the one phone call from jail. It had been gnawing at her all night, and she had wanted to ask Billy about it, but she had thought better of it.

Now, it was the perfect chance to ask him.

Fuck it. She had to know.

"So who did you call from your one phone call given to you in jail?"

Billy turned to look at her, puzzled.

"I called my dad," he said.

Sidney frowned.

"No, the sheriff called your dad. I saw him," Sidney replied.

Billy looked at her again, staring at her dead in the face, astonished.

"You still think it's me, don't you?"

"No I don't," Sidney protested. "I just think it would be a clever way to throw me off. Use your one phone call from jail to make me think it wasn't you, that's all,"

Billy slowly rose to his feet, shaking his head.

Sidney stood up and walked to him, her eyes apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," she said, reaching out to him.

Billy backed away, his face getting red with anger.

"I can't believe you still think I'm the killer," he said.

"Billy, I was just curious, I don't think you're the killer!" Sidney cried in defense.

"What do I have to do to prove to you I'm not a killer?" Billy bellowed, as Sidney stopped dead in her tracks.

Something changed about him. His eyes looked different…they looked evil.

Then, all of a sudden, his eyes grew wide and he lunged for her, his hands outstretched, screaming like a madman.

Sidney screamed in horror, watching the frenzied look on his face turn to one of sheer terror as he threw Sidney to the side.

Sidney looked up from the floor to see that he wasn't lunging at her to hurt her. He was lunging her so that he could throw her out of the way of the man standing in the doorway.

It was the killer standing there. He had come into the room behind Sidney.

Now he was facing Billy and in a sudden blur, the killer spun Billy around and plunged the knife into his stomach.


	12. Chapter 12-The Chase is On

Sidney felt an overwhelming rush of terror and adrenaline and she let out a blood-curdling scream as Billy doubled over, the knife slashing into him again.

She felt flecks of blood hit her, spraying all over the front of her jacket, and she threw her hands to her mouth, recoiling with horror.

The killer spun Billy around, streaks of scarlet painting his chest, blood dribbling from the corner of his chin, presenting the horrible sight to Sidney like a sick piece of artwork.

"Billy!" she screamed, tears falling down her face, reaching out to him.

Billy's eyes stared into Sidney's with urgency as if he was telling her to run, and he reached his hand out to meet hers.

The killer tossed Billy's limp body to the side like a ragdoll, and turned to face her, wiping the blood off the eight-inch hunting knife in his right hand.

A second, even stronger surge of terror trip-hammered through Sidney's system as she backed away in fear, slamming back into the balcony doors and furiously trying the handle to discover they were locked.

There was no escape. She was trapped. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the ghostly white mask and the blade advancing towards her.

Her hands scrabbled for a weapon, finding the lamp on the dresser beside her, and she hurled it at him.

The killer dove to the side to avoid the lamp; it missed, shattering against the wall beside him.

The lamp gave Sidney just enough of an opportunity to make a flying leap over the bed and tear out the door like a rocket.

"Help me!" she screamed, flying down the hallway, not turning around to see if he was following.

The maze of hallways seemed endless, but she finally reached the stairs, racing down them two at a time towards the front door.

And then, she screamed from the bottom of her soul as she saw the killer come barreling out of the kitchen, and up the stairs towards her from the direction she was running.

Sidney backpedaled away, made a U-turn, and ran back up the stairs, feeling his knife slashing at her back.

She bolted inside the first room, slamming the door in the killer's face, sending him crashing to the floor.

Sidney found the lock, and bolted the door shut, finding herself in another bedroom.

What the fuck was she going to do?

No time for thinking, she urged herself, and ran through another door into an adjoining bedroom, slamming the door shut and heaving a dresser in front of the door as a barricade.

Could she hide? No. Fuck that. She had to get the hell out of this house and find Dewey. Where had everyone at the party gone? Where was Tatum?

She had to stop thinking and act fast. She could hear the killer smashing things in anger, searching for her in the adjacent bedroom.

But there was no way out of this room. No other doors or windows.

But there was a panel in the ceiling above the bed; a long drawstring was attached.

It must be the attic.

And it was her only escape.

Sidney jumped on top of the bed and pulled the drawstring. The panel fell open, and a ladder extended down.

Sidney scrambled up the ladder into the attic just as she heard the killer throw his shoulder into the bedroom door.

She scanned her surroundings.

The attic was dark, musty, and cluttered with junk.

She couldn't stay there and hide. The killer would see the open attic door and he would be up there soon looking for her.

Sidney sprinted through the darkened attic, passing her reflection in an old dusty mirror and cringing at the sight of her covered in Billy's blood.

Sidney found a window and looked down at the driveway, her heart sinking into her feet. Not a car was in sight. Everyone had left and she was alone with this psychopath.

"Help me somebody! Help me!" she screamed as loud as she could, hoping anyone who was still in the house would hear her.

No answer. There was just the sound of her own panicked breathing.

"Help me! Stu! Tatum! Billy!" she shrieked.

Then, she froze, listening. She could hear footsteps running through the attic towards her.

Fuck. It was him.

Sidney tried the window, and to her terror, it was bolted shut.

Sidney ran through a doorway into the next room, almost tripping over a pile of junk, and ran towards the next window that she saw, and tried it.

It wouldn't budge either.

"Shit!" Sidney screamed in frustration.

Sidney frantically searched for something to break the glass, finding a heavy wooden chest.

She smashed the window with the chest, sending glass shards raining down to the ground below.

She hoisted herself up onto the sill and wriggled through.

Dangling from the window, her hands holding onto the sill, Sidney began to scream.

"Help me, somebody! Help me!"

Her feet found a small ledge below the window, and she started to gain her balance, when the killer suddenly appeared out of the darkness of the attic and reached through the broken glass, grabbing her jacket collar.

Sidney let out another bone-chilling scream, staring into his demented eyes through the mask, hitting at him, trying to force him to let go.

Just as he began to pull her into the attic, her jacket ripped and Sidney plummeted from the window, landing on the roof of the garage, and rolling off onto the soft mud.

Sidney felt a surge of pain shoot up her right leg as she lay there on the ground for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

She struggled to her feet, wincing as she tried to put weight on her injured leg.

Looking up at the window, she didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified that the killer was nowhere to be seen.

Where the fuck was he?

Sidney hobbled around the side of the garage, looking for any sign of any of the kids, but the yard and house were virtually silent and empty.

Where had everyone gone?

Where was Tatum?

Sidney turned to face the automatic garage door and that question was answered.

Tatum was dangling from the roof of the garage, hanging from the garage door beam, her neck twisted in an unnatural way, blood forming a pool below her hanging feet.

She was deader than dead.

Sidney let out a horrified cry, feeling a wave of nausea come over her, and she vomited.

She had no time to mourn as she could hear the back door of the house opening and shutting.

Someone was coming.

Sidney cupped a hand to her mouth to stay silent and slowly backed away from the horrible sight of Tatum's lifeless body.

She ran for the rickety wooden gate surrounding the house and she kicked a few rotting slats out of the way, climbing through the small opening that she made.

She had to get help and she had to find Dewey, but the first thing she had to do was get the hell away from that house.

She sprinted through the field towards the road and her eyes lit up when she saw a familiar news van parked a little ways away from the farmhouse…

* * *

Kenny chewed on another cheese puff slowly, watching the small computer screen intently.

Nothing had happened at the party in the last hour and Gale still hadn't returned.

He wasn't worried. He had seen how that woman could put up a fight and just how stubborn she was, and he was positive that Gale would be in no danger from some loony in a mask.

Though, he was worried for himself. He had heard a few noises outside the news van and had gone out to check, but it had just been animals scurrying around in the nearby woods.

The only strange thing he had seen was one of the kids getting a phone call, and then suddenly they all ran out of the house screaming about something.

Then a few moments later, he had seen all of their cars come racing by.

Now, Kenny was just watching a lone guy passed out on the couch, and it looked like the party was over.

Just as Kenny started to doze off, a loud and frantic banging on the side of the news van and a panicked screaming jolted him from his slumber.

Kenny slid open the news van door and Sidney threw herself inside, slamming the sliding door closed, crying hysterically.

"Oh god, the killer is in the house, he's after me!" Sidney rambled incoherently, pressing herself against the back wall.

Kenny was flabbergasted, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"Whoa, slow down, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to calm her down.

"The killer is fucking here and he killed Billy and Tatum!" Sidney shrieked at him.

"The killer? He's in the house? Here, look at the camera," Kenny said, and both of them looked at the monitor.

They could see Randy was sprawled out on the couch, oblivious to the masked killer standing above him, knife raised to strike.

Sidney and Kenny both exchanged looks, horrified.

"Randy!" Sidney screamed in sheer terror.

"Behind you, kid!" Kenny yelled, both of them not in the right state of mind to realize Randy couldn't hear them. "Look behind you!"

"We have to help him!" Sidney screamed.

"We can't!" Oh shit, oh shit…" Kenny went on, petrified out of his skin.

They looked down at the monitor again to see the room empty. The killer was nowhere in sight; it was just Randy lying on the couch.

Then Kenny remembered something. Something that sent a chill coursing up his spine and his blood to run cold.

The delay. The 30 second delay.

"Damnit!" Kenny exclaimed. 'Shit!"

"What?" Sidney asked, horrified.

"We got a 30 second delay, what we are seeing on this screen isn't live," Kenny said, glancing out the van window in fear.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Sidney cried hysterically. "We've got to get out of here!"

"It means the killer could be anywhere," Kenny said, and pulled open the van door to confirm his suspicions.

The killer was standing right there, knife in hand.

"No!" Sidney shrieked.

The killer lashed out with the knife in a single swipe and Kenny watched as blood began to cascade down the front of his parka.

He felt the gaping hole in his neck, as warm blood flowed through his hands, quickly realizing his throat had been cut and he didn't have much time left.

Sidney screamed again, watching in sheer shock and terror as Kenny pointed a trembling hand towards the back of the van.

The killer grabbed Kenny and heaved his lifeless body out of the van.

Before the killer could turn around to climb inside, Sidney acted fast and slammed the sliding door shut, locking it.

She clambered into the driver's seat, searching madly for the keys.

Her heart sank when she realized they were probably outside on Kenny's body.

Sidney screamed in frustration and then let out another scream of horror as the killer came through the open driver's side window, his hands going for her neck.

Sidney thrashed wildly, causing the killer to lose his grip on her neck and she kicked at him, delivering a solid blow to his chest and he went flying backwards.

Sidney leapt into the back of the van going for the side door again, throwing it open, but the killer was too fast.

He was already running around the side of the van and reached inside the sliding door. He slashed the knife at her, catching her shoulder. Sidney screamed in pain as she felt the steel blade slice into her flesh.

Sidney recoiled back into the van, pulling the door shut managing to latch it but not before the killer was able to thrust him arm into the van a second time, and he was caught in the door.

This was Sidney's chance.

The killer growled angrily, groping madly for the latch pinning his arm inside the van.

Kenny had pointed to something towards the back of the van…a weapon? What?

Sidney scanned the interior of the van frantically, her hand pressed to the bleeding wound on her shoulder.

Then, she saw exactly what he had been pointing to.

It was a small hole in the back of the van, where cables could be run through to the outside.

It was just big enough for Sidney to fit through.

She scrambled for it, pushing aside some of the equipment, and squeezed her body through, just as she heard the killer unlock the door and climb into the van.

In a flash, Sidney climbed to her feet, slammed the door shut on the killer, shutting him inside the van, and ran back towards the farmhouse.

* * *

Dewey and Gale sprinted down the dark road, Dewey's flashlight and the silvery moon above providing the only source of light.

"Wait, stop, let me catch my breath," Gale said, stooping down and struggling to breathe.

"Shit, I've got to find Sidney," Dewey said, pacing nervously back and forth.

He waved his flashlight erratically back and forth, scanning the dark woods surrounding them.

"Are you sure it's Sidney's father we're after?" Gale asked.

"The calls came from his cellular," Dewey said.

"Maybe it was a cloned cell," Gale said.

"Maybe,"

Dewey reached for his pocket.

"I've got to radio Burke and get him out here," he said, searching himself frantically. "Fuck,"

Gale's stare met Dewey's and she saw the 'oh shit' look on his face.

"I think I dropped my walkie back there," he said.

"Great, just great," Gale said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Dewey asked.

Gale nodded.

"It's in the newsvan,"

"Ok, Gale, I want you to go to the van, lock yourself in it, and call Burke and tell him to send backup. I'm going to go back to the house and try to find Sidney," Dewey explained, and then dashed off into the darkness.

"Wait, Dewey!" Gale called after him, but he was a man on a mission.

As his flashlight disappeared into the darkness, she managed to say something that he didn't hear.

"Be careful…" she said, her voice trailing off.

A guy actually taking interest in her and not writing her off as a cold-hearted bitch and now he might just become victim to a serial killer. Just her luck.

No time for that now, she told herself, and she booked it back towards the newsvan sitting on the edge of the dirt road.

"Kenny, I need the cellular!" Gale screamed at the top of her lungs, banging on the side of the van.

No answer. There was nothing but silence.

"Kenny!" she called again, and slid open the van door.

The monitor was just where she left it, still with a view of the now lifeless party. The living room empty and littered with beer cans.

Kenny was nowhere to be found.

Then, Gale lifted her foot to move and felt something sticky under the toe of her high-heeled shoe.

She looked down and her jaw dropped at the pool of bright red at her feet.

"Kenny?" she called again, backing away from the van in horror.

Her eyes were just now adjusted to the darkness and she saw all of the blood streaming down the side of the van.

For the first time in this entire thing, now she was fucking terrified.

Gale lit like a match, racing around the side of the van, jumping inside the driver's seat and slamming the door closed, locking it.

She locked the passenger door, and grabbed her cellular out of her purse.

As she began to dial the sheriff's office, she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

It was a human hand.

Dangling over the edge of the car on the windshield. A bloody human hand.

Gale shriveled back in her seat, her hands cupped to her mouth in horror.

"No fucking way, this isn't happening!" she exclaimed.

She managed to dial the number and she put the phone to her ear, to hear silence.

No goddamn reception out here.

"Fuck!" Gale shrieked, tossing the phone to the side. She was actually terrified for the first time in all of this, tears were beginning to form at the edges of her eyes.

Fuck it. Fuck it to hell. She was going to drive to the sheriff's station.

Gale dug in her purse for the spare van key, stuck it in the ignition, and the van roared to life.

As the windshield wipers started working, Gale cringed with disgust as she saw the windshield was covered in blood as well and the wipers were smearing it across the glass in some sort of macabre artwork.

She slammed the van into reverse and as she jerked backwards, Kenny's body came rolling down the windshield onto the hood of the car and his lifeless eyes came to rest on Gale's.

Gale unleashed a blood-curdling scream at the sight of her dead cameraman and instinctively slammed the van into drive, barreling forward and sending Kenny's corpse tumbling off the hood onto the ground.

"Kenny, I'm so sorry, but get off the fucking windshield!" Gale screamed hysterically, and sped off down the road.

She didn't make it but a few feet, when a figure came tearing out of the woods on the right side of the road.

It was Sidney, drenched in blood from head to toe, waving her arms frantically and screaming for Gale to stop.

In a panic, Gale swerved the van to the left to avoid hitting Sidney, and smashed through the rickety wooden fence lining the road.

The van was out of control, careening down an embankment and all Gale could do was watch.

The handle of the door was stuck, and she couldn't jump out.

She saw the tree trunk coming and screamed, putting her hands up to deflect the blow.

The van hit the tree dead on, and smoke began to hiss from the hood, filling the air around the now still vehicle.

"Gale!" Sidney screamed, staring down the embankment at the wreckage.

There was no answer. Only silence and the sound of the smoke hissing and the van's engine slowly grinding to a halt.

She made her way carefully down the embankment, slipping and sliding until she finally caught her balance and approached the wreckage.

Gale was slumped over the steering wheel, blood oozing out of a gash on her forehead.

"Gale…" Sidney said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She shook her softly.

"Gale, please help me,"

No response. Gale didn't move.

"Fuck…" Sidney said.

 _Crack._

Something in the bushes.

Sidney's fight-or-flight instinctively started propelling her, and she scrambled back up the embankment and ran the only way she could-back towards the farmhouse.

* * *

Sidney hobbled down the dirt road towards the farmhouse, dragging her injured leg behind her, wincing every time she put weight on it.

She was caked from head to toe in dried mud and blood, and her clothes were ripped and just as bloody.

"Dewey! Dewey, where are you!" Sidney screamed desperately.

Where was everyone? Where were all of the other kids? Where was Dewey?

She didn't know, but right now, she just wanted to get the fuck out of here.

She still kept picturing Tatum's body, her neck twisted all unnaturally like that, that pool of her blood beneath her…that sick fuck…not Tatum… and Billy... poor Billy…all the blood….and watching him being slashed to death while she stood there and did nothing…

She broke away from her thoughts and stopped in front of the gate leading to the house.

She saw Dewey's station wagon still parked in the same spot, but no sign of Dewey.

She glanced towards the huge field surrounding the farmhouse. Could she run for it?

The neighbors were probably miles away.

But it might be her only chance. She had to get to a phone and call for help.

There had to be a phone inside Stu's house.

Fuck…she didn't want to go back inside that farmhouse and come face to face with the killer again.

But she didn't have a choice at this point.

Sidney started moving quietly towards the house, looking around her in all directions.

She hurried down the pathway up to the front porch and just as she was about to climb the first step, the front door banged open and out stumbled Dewey.

` "Dewey!" Sidney screamed in relief, outstretching her arms towards him.

Thank God, Sidney thought.

But then, her relief turned to horror when she saw the pained expression on his face, and the blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly, he pitched forward, crashing down on the porch face-first, crumpling into a motionless heap.

A knife protruded from his back.

"NO!" Sidney shrieked.

She started to kneel down beside Dewey, when she saw two black boots standing in the doorway.

It was the killer.

Sidney's eyes met the eyeholes of his mask, and she staggered backwards, shaking her head, pleading with him.

The killer reached down and ripped the knife from Dewey's corpse, and started advancing towards her.

Sidney spun around and ran towards the first thing she saw: Dewey's station wagon.

She slid across the hood, climbed inside the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut.

Her hand clamped down over the lock just as the killer came barreling around the side of the car and tugged at the handle.

The killer took one menacing stare at Sidney through the window, and then came tearing around the side of the car towards the passenger door.

Just as his hand grabbed the handle, Sidney slammed down on the lock with both hands, again, her eyes meeting with his.

Sidney scrambled back into the driver's seat, and realized there were no keys in the ignition.

Then she heard a tapping sound.

She looked towards the passenger side window to see the killer jangling a set of keys in his hand.

He was toying with her.

He shook them like a dog treat just out of Sidney's reach, waving them right in her face.

And then, in a flash, he ducked down and disappeared.

"Oh fuck…" Sidney thought, looking around frantically.

Where was he? What was he doing?

She heard his footsteps for a second, and then it got quiet again.

It was the most unbearable silence she'd ever experienced.

Sidney began to reach for the door handle, but she thought better of it.

He was just fucking with her.

He was waiting right outside, and she knew it. She wasn't going to fall for it.

Sidney looked for any sign of a weapon, or any sign of anything that could help her, and she saw Dewey's CB radio.

In a hasty blur, she snatched up the radio, untangled the cord, and pressed the button, speaking into the receiver.

"Hello, hello, can someone please help me!" she screamed hysterically.

No answer. Just static.

"My name is Sidney Prescott and I'm at Stu Macher's house on Turner Lane, please help, someone is trying to kill me!" Sidney yelled into the radio, barely understandable.

She didn't see the hatchback slowly rise, and the dark figure slip quietly into the back of the car.

And then, the killer lunged from the backseat, his gloved hands clamping around Sidney's neck. The radio went flying from her hands, and she let out a surprised yelp.

Sidney delivered a sharp blow with her elbow to the killer's mask, sending him back to the backseat, but he grabbed her again, throttling her.

Sidney wrenched her entire body around so that her back was against the driver's side door, and she began to kick and scream hysterically, managing to hit him squarely in the chest with her high-heeled boot, and he went reeling.

Sidney's hand found the latch, and she went tumbling out of the door onto the pavement.

She sprang to her feet, not daring to look behind her, and ran for the farmhouse, not even realizing she had left the CB radio dangling from the dashboard, the man's voice who had heard her cries slowly fading away.

She climbed the front porch steps, and turned to see if the killer was following, and he was nowhere to be seen.

Both doors and the hatchback of Dewey's car were hanging open, the road and the surrounding field were empty. No sign of him.

He's like a ghost, Sidney thought. Where does he keep going?

Breaking her out of her thoughts, came Stu barreling from the around the side of the house, screaming like a madman.

"Sidney! Sidney! Oh Thank God, Sidney, I found Tatum and she's dead," Stu blubbered hysterically.

Sidney backed away in shock and disbelief.

He was covered in blood from head to toe.

There wasn't any way in hell she was trusting him.

She saw Dewey's gun, still in the holster on Dewey's lifeless body, and snatched it up, aiming it right at Stu's forehead.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sidney screamed.

"Sidney, it's me! It's Stu! I swear Sidney, please, we gotta get out of here!" Stu said, reaching out his hand to her, but Sidney backed further away into the doorway.

"Stop, don't come any closer!" she shrieked, putting her finger on the trigger.

Stu held up his hands in surrender.

"Sidney, I swear to God, I'm not the killer, please listen to me!" Stu bellowed, tears streaming down his face.

Shit…Sidney thought. She'd never seen him cry before. Maybe he was being real.

She started to lower the gun, when Randy came running from around the other side of the house, screaming over Stu and also looking like something out of a horror movie; he was covered in blood.

"Don't listen to him Sidney! I found Tatum and I think Stu killed her! He killed Tatum!" Randy screamed. "Sidney, it's Stu!"

Sidney aimed the gun at Randy, swinging back and forth between the two boys in the yard, not sure who to trust or who to listen to.

They were both screaming over each other, neither of them understandable, begging Sidney to listen.

Finally, Sidney threw her hands in the air and let out a frustrated scream.

"Fuck you both!" she screamed, running back inside the house, slamming the door shut and locking it.

They began beating on the door madly, screaming over each other.

"Sidney, open the door! Stu's the killer and he's fucking insane!" Randy yelled.

"Sidney, baby, it's me, open up! Randy killed my Tatum! It's Randy! He's the killer!" Stu screamed.

Sidney pressed her hands to the side of her head, blocking out their cries and shaking her head, crying hysterically.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" She shrieked.

She backed further away into the foyer, trying to shut their screaming out, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She curled into the back corner, rocking back and forth for a few moments and then she took her hands off her ears and listened…they were gone.

Their pounding and screaming had stopped.

And then, a huge crash came from above her and she jolted up to her feet, looking towards the staircase.

It was Billy.

Half-alive.

Staggering down the stairs towards her.

Soaked with blood.

Sidney couldn't believe it.

"S-Sidney…" he let out a guttural moan.

She let out a frightened yelp as he suddenly lost his balance, and went tumbling down the stairs.

He landed at the bottom with a soft thud, coughing up blood and letting out another pained groan.

Sidney froze for a moment, in disbelief, and finally snapped out of it, rushing to Billy's side.

She hoisted him up to a sitting position, wrapping her arms around him, sobbing.

"Oh God Billy, I thought you were dead," she said.

"I think I'm alright…" Billy uttered, wincing as he clutched his bleeding torso.

"Here, let me see," Sidney said, reaching for his shirt and Billy pushed her hand away.

"No, no, it's ok. Just help me up," Billy said.

Sidney grunted with effort as she lifted Billy to his feet. He struggled to stand for a moment, swaying back and forth dizzily, but finally managed to regain his composure.

"God, Billy, we've got to get out of here," Sidney exclaimed hysterically. "The killer's somewhere and Dewey's dead and Randy and Stu are outside and I…"

Sidney's voice trailed away as Billy pulled her into his arms and she cried into his shoulder.

"Shhh…shh..it's ok. Just give me the gun and I'll go look outside, alright?" Billy said, taking the gun gently from Sidney's hand and moving towards the front door.

He held the gun out in a defensive stance, inching closer towards the front door, Sidney huddling behind him.

He unlocked it, and swung it open slowly.

Without warning, Randy came barreling inside the house, shoving past both Sidney and Billy, slamming the door shut and locking it.

"Jesus, guys, we gotta get the fuck out of here!" Randy yelled, his eyes bug-wide, spit flying out of his mouth.

"Is the killer out there?" Billy asked.

"I don't know, man. People are dead, and I just don't fucking know," Randy said, throwing his hands up to his head and clenching them into fists.

Billy hurried towards the front door, unlocked it, and peered out.

"I don't see anyone,' he said, closing it.

"God, Billy, you're bleeding," Sidney said, rushing towards him.

"I just don't know, man. I think it's Stu, he's gone mad!" Randy yelled.

Just as she lifted his shirt to inspect his wounds, she stopped short.

There were no wounds.

His stomach was clean.

It was his shirt that was bloody.

Billy looked down at Sidney and his eyes met hers.

And something changed.

It was like a light switch turning off.

His entire demeanor shifted into something far more evil than Sidney had ever seen before.

Billy turned to look at Randy and a hellish smirk crept across his face.

And he lifted the gun, aiming it at Randy.

"We all go a little mad sometimes,"

Billy pulled the trigger.


	13. Chapter 13-The Truth Hurts

Sidney didn't have time to react or say anything. It all happened so fast, in one horrifying blur.

The shot rang out, and Sidney's ears began to ring as she shrunk back into the corner, the smell of gunpowder stinging her nostrils.

The bullet tore into Randy's left shoulder, sending him flying backwards like a rag doll, smashing into the centerpiece and crushing the small flimsy table in the middle of the room, crumpling to the floor in a dazed and bloody heap.

"Billy, no! Oh my God!" Sidney screamed, rushing down to Randy's aide as he groaned in pain, his hand clutching the fresh bullet wound in his chest.

Randy eventually let his head fall back, and his body stopped squirming.

Sidney watched the life drain out of him, her mouth open in speechless horror.

She heard Billy laugh. And his voice sounded like nothing she had ever heard before. It was a hauntingly evil laugh.

She turned to look up at him, shaking her head in refusal to believe the truth, coming to the horrifying realization...

Billy licked the blood off of his shirt and grinned.

"Corn syrup...just like what they used for pig's blood in Carrie," he said, his lips curling into that evil smile.

God no...this isn't happening. Fuck no.

Sidney spun around to run for the back door and she ran into the arms of Stu, standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Stu, please help me, you have to help me," she sobbed hysterically.

Stu reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white device, his lips also conforming into an evil smile.

He spoke into the device.

"Surprise, Sidney,"

Sidney's jaw hit the floor in utter disbelief. She was dumbfounded.

It was the killer's voice.

The same voice who had been harassing her.

Sidney backed away, looking at Billy and Stu as they cornered her.

It was them. They were the killers. It was so clear to her now. And they were backing her into a corner like a caged animal, hunting their prey.

"No!" Sidney screamed and shoved past Stu into the kitchen, making a beeline for the back door, but Billy and Stu both ran around to the other kitchen door, and blocked her off.

Stu moved to one side of Sidney, and Billy the other. She was trapped. They were sandwiching her in.

Sidney pressed back against the kitchen counter, seeing the gun in Billy's hand and the knife that Stu had pulled out of his pocket.

Her hands scrabbled frantically for a weapon, but Billy took her and heaved her against the wall with such force that it cracked the plaster where her forehead hit, and she slumped to the floor.

Everything went black.

* * *

Sidney's eyes fluttered open to see Billy and Stu leaning over her, grinning evilly and licking their lips like two wild tigers stalking their prey.

She tried to move, but she was tied to a kitchen chair.

Billy took the voice changing device from Stu and spoke into it.

"What's the matter, Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost," he taunted her, in that terrifying raspy voice.

"Billy...why?" Sidney asked, her eyes getting wet with tears. "Why, fucking why!?

"It's all part of the game, Sidney..." Stu said.

Stu was no longer his usual jokester self. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his expression now sinister and menacing, wearing the same mask of pure evil that Billy was wearing.

She could hardly recognize them anymore.

"It's called; guess how I'm going to die!" Billy cackled malevolently.

"Fuck you!" Sidney screamed, squirming madly, trying everything she could to free herself.

Billy stopped, his smile fading. He back-slapped Sidney across the left side of her face, and leaned in close, gritting his teeth angrily.

"We already played that game, remember? You lost," Billy said. "Poor virgin Sidney fucks her psycho boyfriend. What a shame,"

Sidney let out a heaving sob, tasting the blood in her mouth from where he had hit her.

"It's a fun game, Sidney," Stu said. "We ask a question, you get it wrong? You die,"

"Get it right, you die," Billy said with another evil laugh.

"You're crazy...both of you," Sidney said through tears.

"We prefer the term psychotic," Stu said, taking the gun from Billy and putting it on the table beside the door.

"You'll never get away with this,"

"Oh really? Tell that to Cotton Weary. You wouldn't believe how easy he was to frame," Billy said.

Sidney's eyes grew wide with the realization that they had also murdered her mother. She gazed up at Billy, pleading...trying to see her boyfriend, trying to make him come back...but he was gone. It wasn't him anymore.

"Why...why did you kill my mother?" Sidney whimpered.

"Why?" Billy replied. "You hear that, Stu buddy? I think she wants a motive,"

Stu grinned, and came to Sidney's side, slowly running the blade of the knife across her cheek, toying with her...

They were relishing every minute of this, basking in the fucking amazing feeling of finally having Sidney right where they wanted her, finally not having to hide anymore.

Billy leaned down close again to Sidney.

"You know, I don't really believe in motives, Sid. Did Norman Bates have a motive? Did they ever figure out why Hannibal Lector liked to eat people? Don't think so," he explained.

Stu shook his head slowly, playing along.

Sidney felt another wave of horror and panic overcome her, and she thrashed madly around in the chair.

"No!" she screamed. "Why!"

Billy hit her again, and grabbed her by the neck, slamming her head back against the chair, so close to her that Sidney could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"We did your mother a favor, Sidney. The woman was a slut-bag whore who flashed her shit all over town like she was Sharon Stone or something," Billy said coldly.

Stu snickered nastily.

"And let's face it, Sidney. Your mother was no Sharon Stone,"

Sidney fought back tears and vomit coming up from the sheer horror of the situation, trying to maintain her composure.

"Is that motive enough for you, Sidney? Well, how about this," Billy said, leaning in again and looking at Sidney dead in the eyes. "Your slut mother was fucking my father. And she's the reason they split up. And she's the reason my mom left and abandoned me,"

Billy's eyes were growing wet with tears. Even Stu was shocked at how serious Billy was.

Sidney began to cry harder, realizing how everything happened for the first time in so long, his words resonating with painful truth.

She pictured the night of her mom's murder…that man in the white coat…how could she not tell it was Billy? She had been so wrong…so goddamn wrong… they had completely fooled her. She saw that coat and immediately thought Cotton…

"Billy...I'm sorry..." she cried, her face a bloody, wet mess.

"How's that for a motive, huh, Sid? I mean maternal abandonment causes serious deviant behavior. Your mom died and you had sex with a psychopath," Billy said.

Stu jumped up with excitement, guffawing with evil laughter.

"Yep, you gave it up Sidney! You're not a virgin anymore and like Randy said, now you have to die!" Stu yelled, spit flying.

"Why the others..." Sidney asked.

"No big loss, Sidney. Tatum wouldn't have let you out of her sight, so she clearly had to go. Mr. Himbry, no big loss either, was just to get everyone out of the house, and Casey and Steve...well, they were really just to make it look like a random killing spree, and I let Stu have his choice," Billy explained.

"Yeah, the bitch left me for Steve...I thought it was only appropriate," Stu said.

Sidney's jaw dropped as she realized.

It was Stu that Casey had dated. Stu was the guy at Lefty's that night. The other boyfriend. Now she remembered clear as day.

"Let's pretend its all one big scary movie. And rules say you gotta die now, Sidney," he said. "How do you think its going to end?"

Stu was in a mad frenzy, his eyes about to pop out of his skull.

"Here's the best part, Sidney baby! You're going to love this" he screamed, opening the pantry door.

Out fell Neil Prescott, bound and gagged, bloodied and bruised.

"Daddy!" Sidney screamed, lurching forward instinctively but Billy slammed her back into the chair.

Neil looked up at his daughter, his eyes pleading for her to do something. But the ropes around her wrists were too strong. She was absolutely helpless. There was nothing she could do but sit and watch as Billy slammed his foot into her father's abdomen.

"What's up, Daddy-O?" Billy exclaimed with a sinister laugh.

He glanced up at the clock and his eyes lit up with excitement. The clock read 12:01.

"Guess what time it is, Sidney! It's midnight. It's your mom's anniversary. We killed her one year ago today," Billy said.

Sidney screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Please, stop! Please, Billy, please!" she shrieked.

"Shut up!" Billy screamed at her furiously, hitting her again. "You fucking slut! You whore! Just like your mother!"

Sidney felt the sting of his hand on her cheek, and bit the inside of her mouth so hard that it began to bleed, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

She spit onto the floor and looked up at Billy again with pleading eyes.

"Billy, don't hurt my dad, please, hurt me but not my daddy,"

"But see, that's all part of the ending, Sid. We've got it all figured out. Your father is the main suspect in the murders, we cloned his cellphone so all the calls get traced to his phone," Billy explained deviously.

Stu pulled a small, compact cellular phone out of his pocket...the same one Billy had in his pocket that night..and slipped it into Neil's front shirt pocket.

"The evidence is all in here, baby!" Stu exclaimed.

"It all makes perfect sense. Your mom's anniversary set your father off, he just snapped and went on a killing spree. Killing everyone, including you, but leaving us for dead and then shooting himself in the head. Stu and I are the sole survivors of a mass killing spree," Billy went on, his eyes wide with pleasure, almost enjoying detailing his plan.

"But, of course, this is all fake," Billy said, gesturing to his blood soaked shirt from when the killer "attacked" him. "So now we have to make it look real,"

Stu handed the knife to Billy.

"Are you ready, Stu?" Billy asked.

Stu held up his hands and gritted his teeth, jumping up and down.

"Yeah! I'm ready baby! Come on, hit me hard! Yeah!" Stu screamed like a madman, leaping up and down ecstatically, spit flying wildly.

And in another horrifying blur, Billy plunged the knife into Stu's stomach.

Stu bellied over in pain, not anticipating the force of the blow.

"Fuck, man! We said to keep it to the side and not go too deep!" Stu yelled, blood drooling from his bottom lip, his hand pressed over the wound.

"Sorry, Stu, guess I got a little zealous," Billy said, watching Stu writhe in pain with a sick grin.

"You sick fucks have seen one too many movies," Sidney said in shock.

"Movies don't make psychos, Sid! Movies make psychos more creative!" Billy yelled, swinging the knife at her.

Then he lunged again at Stu, driving the knife deep into Stu's gut and Stu screamed out in agony, dropping to his knees.

"Jesus, Billy, stop it, man!" Stu yelled, starting to cry from the pain.

Billy stood back and admired his work, as Stu staggered to his feet.

"Sorry, Stu. Got to make it look real," he said.

"Ok...my turn," Stu said, barely able to stand.

Billy reluctantly handed him the knife, and pointed an admonishing finger at him.

"Don't go too deep, stay to the side, no vital organs," he said.

"I'll be careful," Stu said, and both of them prepared.

It happened again, and again, so fast that if Sidney blinked she would have missed it.

Stu stabbed Billy once, and then twice, and Billy reeled backwards against the wall, tearing a painting from the wall in anger, smashing a vase, screaming like a banshee.

"Goddamn it, Stu!" Billy exclaimed.

"Sorry, Billy, guess I got a little zealous!" Stu said mockingly, letting the knife fall from his hand.

"You cut me too fucking deep, you fucking idiot," Billy snarled, shoving Stu to the floor.

"Knock it off man, I'm feeling a little woozy here!" Stu yelled in response, weakly staggering to his feet.

"Ok...time for step 2," Billy said. "Get the gun,"

Stu staggered across the kitchen to the small table, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Uh...Houston, we have a problem," he said wearily, still clutching the bleeding gashes in his abdomen.

Billy sighed with exasperation, grabbing a dishrag and holding it to his wounds.

"What?"

"The gun...I put it right here...Where is the gun?" Stu said. He searched for a minute and then looked up to see the barrel of the missing gun pointed right at his head.

It was Gale.

Looking like a zombie, covered in mud and blood from head to toe, her pretty nicely made-up face now looking like something out of a horror movie.

"The gun is right here, asshole," Gale said like a hero in to save the day.

Sidney looked up at the sound of Gale's voice and smiled with relief.

"I thought you said she was fucking dead," Billy said.

"She looked dead. Still does..." Stu said, backing away slowly from the gun.

"I've got an ending for you. The reporter left for dead in the newsvan comes to, and stumbles on you two dipshits," Gale said, cocking the gun. "Finds the gun, saves the day,"

"I like that ending," Sidney chimed in from the chair.

There was a pause, as Gale aimed at Stu, and Billy and Stu exchanged looks, grinning.

Gale pulled the trigger with a resounding _click._

"Next time, make sure the safety is off, dumb bitch," Billy snarled, and he lunged at her, shoving her backwards into the open front door. Her head cracked against the thick wood, and she slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Billy and Stu moved into the foyer, standing over her. Billy picked up the gun and aimed it at her head.

"Works better with the safety off, doesn't it, Gale Weathers,"

Billy and Stu turned around in unison and froze.

Sidney and Neil were gone. The ropes were undone, and bloody footprints led off into the house.

"Fuck!" Billy exclaimed. "Find them goddammit!"

"I don't know, man," Stu sighed, falling into another kitchen chair, clutching his bleeding torso. "I think you cut me too deep, I think I'm dying,"

Billy ignored him, and ran into the living room, tearing the house apart. He ripped the pillows off the couch, screaming like a psychopath.

"When I find you, I'll fucking kill you and your old man! I'll rip you apart!" Billy screeched in a mad rage.

He tore the pillows in half, sending feathers flying. He tipped over the bookshelf, and threw a chair into the wall, smashing it to bits.

"Where are you, you bitch!?" Billy screamed.

And all of a sudden, the phone rang.

Angrily, Billy snatched the phone off of the receiver and put it to his ear.

'Who the fuck is this!"

It was the killer's voice.

"Come and find me, you pansy ass mama's boy!" the voice said mockingly.

"Fuck you and your slut mother!" Billy screamed into the phone.

"Aw, poor Billy. It's a shame I had to lose my V card to such a small penis," the voice said.

"I'll fucking kill you!" he screamed.

"Let's play a game, Billy. It's called guess who just called the police on your sorry motherfucking ass!"

Billy let out another enraged guttural howl and threw the phone across the room.

He ran up the stairs, looking into every room, screaming, in a frantic frenzy.

"Where the fuck are you, slut! I'm going to kill you just like your mother!" Billy yelled, his voice thundering throughout the house. He barreled back down the stairs and came to a dead stop in the foyer.

The hall closet. He heard voices. And movement. LIke someone was trying to move things around.

A grin crept across Billy's face and he grabbed the knife off of the kitchen table where Stu was passed out.

He ran back into the foyer and crept quietly towards the closet door.

He imagined the knife plunging deep into Sidney's flesh,the warm blood flowing over his hands.

It was the same incredible feeling when he murdered all the others. Casey, Steve, Mr. Himbry, Tatum...Maureen Prescott. He had watched them all die, their bodies trembling until they stopped moving and breathing...it was such a liberating feeling.

He remembered the satisfaction of seeing that bitch Maureen fighting for her life as he violated her and stabbed the knife into her again and again...the bitch who ruined everything he had. Ruined his childhood. Ruined his relationship with his mother.

Caused that fucking bitch of a stepmother to come into his life and hit him like she did.

He wanted to kill her too, but it wouldn't have solved anything. But he had to kill again. Maureen was just a start.

Where to start next? Sidney. Maureen's daughter.

He had planned it from the start. Get Sidney to fall in love with him. Easy. Earn her trust. Even easier. Start the murders. Make it look like a random killing spree. Throw a party-classic end to a good slasher movie. Get everyone out of the house and have Sidney alone. Better yet, get Sidney to fuck you so that she's now just as much of a slut as her mother.

It was all so easy.

Billy stepped closer to the hall closet door, knife in the air, ready to pull the door open and strike, when the door suddenly opened from the inside.

All Billy saw was the killer's ghostly white mask as it lunged at him, and the steel tip of an umbrella plunged into his shoulder.

Billy cried out in agony, smashing back into the wall, as the masked figure plunged the umbrella into him again, and Billy went down like a tree, lying motionless on the floor.

The masked figure reached up, ripped off the mask to reveal Sidney, staring down at Billy with a look of satisfaction.

She nudged him. No movement.

"That was for my mom," she muttered under her breath.

She peeled off the killer's costume, took the voice changer device out of her pocket, and placed it right into Billy's hand. She then put the small cloned cellular phone into Billy's back pocket, and threw the mask and costume down over his back.

"How about that ending?" she said coldly.

Just as things got quiet, Stu came crashing out of the kitchen, screaming and raving, looking like an escaped mental patient.

He stopped to look down at Billy, unmoving on the floor, and then up at Sidney who stood there in terror.

He lunged forward at her and Sidney sprinted into the living room.

As she made her way into the dining room, Stu came from the other direction, tackling her to the floor like a linebacker.

Sidney slammed into the hardwood floor so hard it knocked the breath out of her.

Stu pinned both of her arms to the ground and straddled her.

Sid arched her back, swinging her fists and kicking but Stu was too strong. It was like he shot up a steroid or something; the veins were bulging out of his neck.

He gritted his teeth, foaming at the mouth, his face beet red with anger.

"You fucking bitch!" he screamed, clamping his hands around Sidney's throat and slamming the back of her head against the floor.

Sidney managed to unpin her arm and she delivered a solid left hook to his jaw and a knee to the groin and she was free.

She got to her feet and began to run, but Stu was too fast.

His long, gangly arms wrapped around her and in a dive, he took her over the couch and they rolled onto the floor, a struggling, screaming mass on the floor, both fighting for the upper hand.

Stu straddled Sidney as she fought for her life, pressing his groin into hers.

"Oh yeah, Sidney, baby! I always had a thing for you" he exclaimed, trying to tear off her shirt and groping her breast.

He put his hand down by Sidney's face for leverage, and SIdney managed to whip her head to the side and sink her teeth into the fleshy part of Stu's hand.

Stu let out a bellow of agony, and then the next thing he saw was the small ceramic vase that sat on the coffee table come crashing down on his head.

Stu crumpled to the floor on his back, as Sidney got to her feet.

The TV was directly above him, still playing Halloween.

"In your dreams," Sidney scoffed, and in one quick motion, she toppled the television set over onto Stu's head as he screamed.

The TV came down hard and sparks began to fly. Stu's body convulsed wildly, electricity coursing through him, as Sidney stood back in shock at what she had just done.

After a bit more convulsing, his body finally came to a rest and he lay still, sparks still buzzing from the television set, the sound of Jamie Lee Curtis's screams slowly coming to an end.

Sidney crinkled her nose at the smell of burning flesh, and took a look at herself in the mirror above the mantel.

Her color of her hair was barely recognizable it was so caked with dried blood, and she was covered in bruises and gashes over every inch of her bare skin.

She put her hand inside her jacket, feeling where she had been stabbed in the shoulder, seeing the red forming on her hands.

Wincing at the pain of her injured foot, Sidney limped back into the foyer when a figure jumped out at her.

It was Randy, dazed and bloody, but alive.

"Oh my God!" Sidney exclaimed.

'Sorry..sorry..I scared you," Randy said, collapsing into Sidney's arms.

She hoisted him up to a sitting position, and leaned in close.

"Are you ok? God, I thought you were dead," Sidney said, shocked.

"Boy, I thought I was too, but I'm alive!" Randy exclaimed exuberantly. "I never thought I'd be so glad to be a virgin,"

With that, a fist came flying out of nowhere, punching Randy across the face and sending him to the floor.

It was Billy, exploding with rage, soaked in blood and covered in pillow feathers.

He grabbed Sidney by the collar of her jacket and hurled her into the hallway onto the floor.

"You bitch!" he screamed, slamming his foot down into her abdomen.

He snatched the hunting knife off the floor and brought it down towards her heart, but Sidney swept her leg under him, tripping him and sending him to the floor.

Sidney tried to run, but Billy was on top of her in two seconds, straddling her.

He wrapped one hand around her throat, and raised the knife in the air with the other.

His demented eyes met Sidney's.

"Say hello to your mother in hell, Sid," Billy snarled sadistically as just as he brought the knife down, Sidney's hand found one of the wounds where Stu had stabbed him.

She dug her finger into it and twisted with every ounce of strength left in her.

Billy screamed like a wounded animal, and with a sudden burst of anger, he slammed the knife down, and there was a bang that rang out.

Sidney closed her eyes, bracing herself for the feeling of the cold blade penetrating her flesh.

But nothing happened.

She lay there, still for a moment.

Everything was quiet and she smelled gunpowder.

Opening her eyes, Sidney sat up and saw Billy on the floor in front of her, blood bubbling up from his lips, writhing in pain, and smoke wafting from a bullet hole in his chest.

Sidney sat up and whirled around to see Gale standing there, holding the smoking gun in a death grip, and smiling heroically.

"I remembered the safety that time, you bastard," she said, tossing the gun onto the floor.

"Gale..." Sidney said.

Gale stepped forward and stood in front of Sidney, nodding.

A silent truce.

"I guess you were right...Cotton isn't the killer," Sidney said awkwardly.

"I wish that I had been wrong," Gale said, looking around at the carnage.

Randy, unconscious on the floor...Stu, dead in the living room, his body fried...Billy bleeding out from a gunshot wound...Sidney soaked with blood from head to toe...

Gale helped Sidney to her feet.

"You need to get to a hospital," Gale said.

"No, Randy does," Sidney said, and rushed to Randy's side as he moaned in pain, slowly coming to.

"Randy, it's ok...shhh...we're going to get you help..." Sidney said.

There was a moment of silence and then the hall closet came crashing open. Mr. Prescott came tumbling out along with a broom and a mop, still bound and gagged, right from where Sidney had hidden him.

"Daddy…" Sidney said in a breath of relief, rushing to her father and ripping the tape from his mouth.

"Oh god Sid…I never should have left you alone…"

"Shh…it's ok, Daddy," Sidney said, tears welling in her eyes. "It's over now,"

Randy then sat up, his eyes wide with fear.

"Be careful, Sid...this is the part in the movie when the killer comes back to life for one last scare..."

And, like always, Randy was right.

Sidney jerked her head up to see Billy running down the hallway, knife ablaze.

Gale and Sidney both screamed in horror just as another shot rang out, and this time, the bullet hit Billy's forehead. Dead center.

Blood sprayed onto the wall and Billy flew back into the dining room, landing on the floor with a thud.

Sidney and Gale looked at each other, and then looked towards the open front door.

It was Dewey, on his knees in the doorway, holding out the gun with a trembling hand.

"Did I get him?" he asked.

"Dewey!" Gale exclaimed ecstatically, running to him.

Sidney looked at Randy and smiled.

"Not in my movie,"


End file.
